Cole to the Infinite Power
by Alchemystik
Summary: We all know the story of Cole Turner...Don't we? Perhaps it would be best to hear the story straight from the Source's mouth.
1. Chapter 1

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter One: In The Beginning

By: Alchemystik

Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end; my story is no different from countless others, except that most people don't have the ability to move from place to place in a puff of black smoke. Nor can the average man on the street fling fireballs at an adversary, though I'm sure many a businessman wishes he could.

I was born, I lived and I died. Well, I died as well as one of my kind can. My name is Cole Turner, a.k.a. Belthazor, formerly known as The Source of all Evil. One half human, one half Upper Level Demon, a feared mercenary, one of the most powerful beings to ever have walked the face of this planet. Ruthless, dispassionate and evil. Cursed with the most bothersome of all human frailties...

A soul.

Why cursed? Because with a soul also comes a conscience, and in my business a conscience is a pain in the ass, to put it bluntly.

Walk along the well-trodden paths of my life and learn all about me, but be warned; such a walk is not for the faint-hearted. Do not catagorize me or attempt to explain me; above all, do not judge me.

At least until you have heard the unvarnished truth straight from the horse's proverbial mouth. That would be me.

In fact, judge not, unless you are prepared to walk a mile in my shoes. By the time you're finished, I doubt very much you'll have the strength to utter a single word either for me or against me.

This is my life.

This is my story.

I remember little of my father except the reports of his business ventures, his courtesy towards other and his kindness to those less fortunate.

Do-gooders.

I do remember my mother, though. Beautiful, wanton, hot-tempered and powerful, my mother made three mistakes; mistakes that cost her dearly.

She failed to kill my father as ordered.

She gave birth to a " half-breed "...me.

And, she failed to fulfill her Life Assignment.

A Life Assigment is just that. An important mission all Upper Level demons must complete within their lifetime. If you fail...

You no longer have a life. Simple, isn't it?

Try it sometime if you think it's so easy.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Mother killed father, although I didn't learn the circumstances nor the reasoning until I was much older. I was a mere toddler when that occured, and Mother and I lived a rather nomadic life after that. We moved around frequently, but we always seemed to lived well, if not opulently.

You see, Mother, to coin the proverbial phrase, was always dependent on the kindness of strangers. Male type strangers, drawn to her blazing beauty, air of menace and dark carnality.

You want me to put it simply? Mom was a woman of the..er..rather loose type. Simplier than that?

Gorgeous, well-bred, arrogant and aristocratic, with the morals of a hamster. I learned more about that later, too.

A time came when suddenly, I was alone. I awoke to dark and silence one night, and in an instant, my life changed forever.

We lived in an expansive and expensive hotel suite in downtown San Francisco, and I was used to waking in the middle of the night to the sounds of laugher, clinking glassware and whispers of passion. So used to it, then when it abruptedly ended, I was awake in an instant. Awake, and frightened.

I knew what Mother was, what I was. The first time I became angry and formed a fireball, I was four years old. Ok, it was a pathetic fireball, and all the damage it did was to my own hands, but I was not only amazed, but disturbingly proud when THAT happened. So was Mother, but she sat me down and cautioned me about scaring the " straights. " It was to be our little secret, and she promised that when I was seven, she'd begin my formal education, teach me all I needed to know about being a demon. An Upper Level demon. One of the few, the proud, the elite.

My education did indeed begin at around seven years, but not in quite the same way that I had envisioned it.

I awoke abruptly as the sound of merriment died away, and a muffled scream of anquish filled the air.

And, then...

Silence.

I threw back the covers, leapt to my feet and ran smack into the largest, meanest looking man I had ever seen. I stared up in awe and terror, as he brushed his expensive looking black robe in distaste, and glared down at me.

" And who might you be? " He asked in a rasping voice, a look of loathing on his pock marked and lined face.

" I'm..I'm..Cole..." I stuttered, backing away from the fearsome looking gent. He reached out a meaty hand, grabbed the collar of my nightshirt, and lifted me up until our faces were level.

" You are mine, now. " He growled, then flung me from him in anger and disgust.

The man had scared the pee right out of me...literally.

And that, dear friends, was my introduction to Raynor. My teacher, my mentor...

My friend.

The only Father I ever knew.

After I was cleaned up, I was taken by the scruff of the neck and teleported instantly to a cavern of rock, brightly lit by a roaring fire and a multitude of candles.

Raynor set me on my feet and stood by, watching me absorb the sights and sounds of my new world.

This was the Underground, the Realm of Darkness, the seat of evil power. A huge cavern of rock and stone, but everything we needed for survival and learning were there. Dormitories for sleeping, a dining hall, classrooms, a music room, potions and spells laboratory...

A dark wonderland for a demon child.

Children both younger and older than me hurried by in pairs or groups, chatting and jostling each other. They were all attired in identical robes, the color being the only difference. I noticed that the older, stronger boys were wearing a color so dark it could almost be mistaken for black, while all shades of greys, from pearl to charcol were represented.

" You earn your dark colors here, Turner. " Raynor told me, and held his hand out.

I wasn't quite sure what it was he wanted, but when a older boy appeared, bearing a robe of silver grey in his hands, I knew that my black velvet cloak with the glistening jet mink trim was going to disappear. I had no right to wear black here. I had to earn it.

I was confused, exhausted, scared and shaking...

I had never been happier in my entire short life...

There was no time to wonder about Mother's abrupt disappearence, as I plunged into my new life. There were lessons and practicums, intense sessions of study, enlivened by physical conditioning and hand-to-hand combat. I did as I was told, kept to myself and absorbed all this new world had to offer. I was among my own kind for the first time in my short existence.

I had been in the Proving Grounds for approximately six months when I had my first one-on-one session with Raynor.

I had just begun to write out the answers to my homework assignment on basic spell components when I was seized by the neck and dragged into a private room.

Raynor dropped me in the middle of the stone floor and stumped over to a large chair with a footstool that was placed next to a small table. He had recently received a rather nasty bite from a Chimera, and was having to use a cane to get around. Chimera bites were notoriously difficult to heal and the pain never quite went away. Just what a demon with a short fuse needed.

He sat down with a grunt and hoisted his swollen leg onto the stool. He waited as I scrambled to my feet and looked rather amused as I brushed the dust off of my robe.

" How are you getting along, Turner? " Raynor asked in his deep, raspy voice. Ages are hard to gauge in the demonic world, as we do not show our years like humans do. A one hundred year old demon could look as young as thirty human years, depending on his status and experience.

Raynor was gray and grizzled looking, his face marked by scars and wrinkles alike. His bushy brows formed a hairy shelf underneath which cold green eyes glittered. His hairline was receding, and he looked like a man who had lived about sixty five Earth years.

Which probably meant he was approximately two hundred and fifty to three hundred demonic years old.

A glare made me realize I hadn't answered his query, and I snapped to attention.

" I'm doing well, Sir. " I answered, and flinched as the cane crashed down on the top of my head.

" You don't call me Sir! I am your mentor, your savior! You refer to me as Master! "

I struggled to control the tears of pain and humiliation that welled up in my eyes. I bowed my head and whispered, " Yes, Master. "

The blow caught me on the cheek this time, knocking me sideways...

" You stand up straight at all times! Head held high, you bow to no one except our Lord! You are one of the Elite, and Upper Level Demon! Remember that! "

I nodded mutely and did as I was told. I was unaware that my features had hardened into a look of outrage and embarrassment, but Raynor saw it...

And was pleased.

" You have much to overcome, Turner! You need to always work harder, be better than the rest! You must try daily to atone for your weakness! "

My weakness? I was the elite, yet I was weak..I risked aonther blow to ask for clarification.

Raynor raised the cane halfway, then looked closer at me. His bushy brows nearly disappeared into his shaggy gray hair..

" You're serious, aren't you? Ah...Elizabeth hadn't started your training yet, had she? No matter, that's what you have me for. You may stand here by my side, while I attempt to explain. "

I moved to where he indicated, and he reached over to pick up an old book that was laying on the table.

" As I said, you are an Upper Level demon, one of the Elite. Any demon can reach the upper level, but very few are born to it. Even fewer are from a breeding between a demon and another human-like creature. "

He opened the book and began to show my various pictures and text about demon/warlock pairings, demon/wizard and a peculiar mating between a demon and a dragon...

" Now there was an unusual child! Smart as a whip she was, but quite a danger when she was angered. Tended to breathe fire all over the place! Ha! "

I listened further, wondering about other human/demon mixes, but after a while Raynor closed the book.

" With your humaness comes weaknesses. You have a soul, and no, don't ask me to explain it! You'll learn as time goes on. Take the book, read it at your leisure. Study hard, we'll be meeting weekly from now on. "

The book was shoved in my hands and I was unceremoniously ejected from the room.

I hugged the book to my chest and made my way back to the study table. I was powerful, yet weak, Elite, yet flawed.

Why?

What did it mean to be this way?


	2. Chapter 2

Cole To The Infinite Power

Are You A Good Witch?

By: Alchemystik

As I mentioned before, time passes at a different rate in the Underworld. By the time I approached my advanced level in school, approximately 50 human years had passed. I, myself looked like a typical older teenager. Tall, slightly gangly, a few blemishes on my otherwise handsome face, which was now twisted into the arrogant sneer of an Upper Level demon.

It was during that time that Raynor decided to begin educating me personally. The subject? My future mission in life...killing good witches.

Anyone can kill a common witch, even the lowest level demon. A potion here, a power there, but a true witch hunter/killer was among the elite. We killed up close and personal, using an Athame, a kind of ceremonial dagger. The Athame rendered the witch's power useless as soon as the blade entered her body...did I mention the excruciating pain it delivered, too? This form of killing was never wasted on a nascent witch. Oh no...I wouldn't bother with THOSE. I would go after the real thing.

So, in addition to athame classes, I had to sit each evening and listen to the fiery rhetoric my mentor spewed out. He was passionate about witches; he hated them with a passion, I should say...

" Thou shall not suffer a witch to live! " Raynor began, in an insidiously pious tone of voice.

I choked back a bit of laughter. It had been a grueling day, and the last thing I needed was clout upside the head from Raynor's heavily carved cane.

Were you surprised by the biblical reference? When I said we had an intensive program of learning, I wasn't joking. We studied History, Geography, Literature, Sociology, Humanities, The Arts, Music and yes, Religion. We then moved on to spells, potions, powers, martial arts, manners and morals. Oh yes, we young demons were well-versed in all areas of Academics; The better to function in the world above.

Raynor was staring at me from under those shaggy brows, waiting for a response.

" Oh, yes...witches. There like...vermin, aren't they, Master? "

Raynor smiled, benignly. Well, as benignly as a demon could smile, and nodded.

" Exactly, Turner! They're nothing but fleas, little pests that need to be exterminated. That's where you come in. "

" Anyone with sufficient skill and knowledge can kill a witch. But a white witch, one who comes from a long line of powerful practitioners; Ah, there's a challenge, My Boy! "

Over the next several months, I learned all I could about those " do-gooders, " who protect the rest of the world from evil. 

That would be me and my ilk.

Witches were plentiful, but most were small fishes in the proverbial ocean of magic.

And then, there were the Wiccans, powerful practitioners, well-versed in the lore of white magic. Witches like those in the Warren-Halliwell family.

A line of witches, started by one Melinda Warren, was the focus of one cold night.

Raynor lit a fire in the old stove and sat back in his overstuffed chair, puffing on his dragon horn pipe. I was directed to a stool in front of him, a singular honor not often given.

" Turner, I'm going to tell you about a prophecy. A prophecy that disturbs our Lord and Master, and concerns you...personally. "

I was intrigued, and settled myself into a comfortable position. Raynor was a phenominal speaker, keen and concise when it was a subject he felt passionately about.

Witches, the future Charmed Ones to be exact, was his particular passion...

" In the sixteen hundreds, a powerful witch was born. She was the first in a long line of these " Charmed " women, and she was the most powerful of all. Loaded with powers, she was, and we tried like hell to prevent her birth. We failed, and she lived long enough to tell all about a prophecy..."

Raynor paused, staring off into space, puffing on his pipe. I was breathless, impatient to hear this story. Why, I didn't know, but just the mention of these charmed women sparked something inside of me. Something savage and dark...tinged with a certain wistful excitement.

" Anyhow..." Raynor resumed, focusing those bright eyes on me, " This witch told of a day when all her powers would come together again. Come together in three sisters descended from her, steeped with her blood. These sisters would be known as " The Charmed Ones " and will be the most powerful force of good to ever walk the world above. They aren't here yet...but the day is coming. "

The fire crackled in the little stove as Raynor paused once again to re-light his pipe. Most powerful force of good?

Our enemies. And, the enemies of any and all who called the dark side home.

Raynor was watching me process this information, a sly smile on his lips.

" Well, Turner...what do you think we have to do about this Charmed Ones? "

I didn't hesitate, " They must be destroyed, Master. In fact...why not destroy their line now? Before they're even born? "

The smile turned almost tender, and the bright eyes blazed with pride. I puffed my chest out, so sure of myself, so arrogant...so young.

The cane descended upon the top of my head with a thud, and for a moment, I heard and saw nothing. When my vision cleared, I saw Raynor standing over me; I had somehow slipped off my stool and onto the rought stone floor.

" Destroy them now, he says! Get up! "

I hastened to obey, my limbs trembling and my head throbbing. The blow most likely caused a concussion, and I was light-headed and sick to my stomach as I faced my mentor.

" I told you this concerned you in a personal way, didn't I? " Raynor glowered, having collapsed back into his chair.

" Yes, Master. " I said, my voice weak and strained.

" Do you know WHY?! " He rasped at me, the eyes now bright with mockery.

" No, Master. " I whispered.

" Ever wonder where Mummy went, Lad? Hmm? Ever wonder why she just disappeared?! "

I knew then. By the loathing in his eyes and the venom in his voice, I knew. I had blindly, unknowingly, strayed into a very sensitive area.

Mother.

My beautiful, treacherous, evil mother had been given just such an assignment...

And had failed. What happened when you failed in this place, I wondered?

I didn't want to know...

I was somber and self-contained after the revelation. So much so, that even my mentor was worried about me. The rotten old bastard.

" Everything alright, Turner? " He asked me one evening, and actually seemed to care about the answer.

" I'm fine, Master. " I answered, coldly.

" Studying hard? "

" Yes, Master. "

" Any..er..problems? "

" No, Master. "

Raynor sat back in his chair, and pursed his lips. " Look, boy, perhaps I was a bit harsh the other night. Your Mother was...incredible. Lovely and venomous, a class act all the way. It was...a misfortune that she didn't kill her first target, but there were compensations. "

" I don't follow. " I said, truly curious.

Raynor looked surprised and then actually chuckled. After waving me onto my stool, he explained.

" Your father was quite a man, Turner. Wealthy, a good businessman, but with this distressing habit of helping those in need. He was making things rather difficult for us, and the Source was not too pleased. Your Mother was assigned to the task of...well..."

" Eliminating him. " I finished, rather amused to see Raynor trying to be delicate around me. " Mother told me that father tried to interfere with my upbringing and she went a bit too far with persuading him otherwise. "

Raynor laughed until he choked on that, thumping me on the shoulder in a rare moment of camraderie. " Yes, yes...I can hear her now. What a woman! "

It was then that I realized that my mentor had had the hots for my mother. Talk about things that make you go...Blech!

After a few more wheezes and a long draught of the disgusting liquor he favored he continued;

" Dear Elizabeth found your father fascinating company, and being the woman she was, thought how nicely she could help your father spend that fortune of his. "

I remembered Mother's love of fine gowns, precious gems and the best food and drink. Father had indulged her completely, obviously as enchanted by her dark and seductive beauty as Raynor had been.

" She married him, but stayed true to her nature. Oh, the Source was a bit put out, but the thought of her reproducing another one like her was just too intriguing to dismiss. Of course, no one expected you to be, well, you. "

I was puzzled for a moment and then the truth dawned on me...

" I was suppose to be a girl? " I asked, already knowing the answer.

" Indeed you were, Lad! " Raynor chuckled, " And, His Lordship was NOT amused! But she dedicated you in the dark way immediately, and I suppose that was the beginning of the end to her fairy tale life with you father. "

" He found out what she was, didn't he? " I asked, curious and fascinated by this tale of my past.

" Oh, yes...he found out. The hard way. She had to dispose of one of his closest friends, a rather boring fellow who kept giving money to those wretched soup kitchens and homeless shelters. Do you know how hard it is to recruit the down-trodden when they had a place to stay and food in their bellies?! "

Raynor's outrage amused me to no end, but I still suffered headaches from the last time I had triggered his temper, and was not about to do it again, so I merely nodded in mock sympathy.

Fortunately for me, Raynor was finishing up his tale..

" Our Master immediately saw the possibilities of having a male Upper Level demon born from our Beloved Elizabeth. He'll expect great things from you. "

" Just like he did from her? " I asked, and Raynor narrowed his eyes.

" Make no mistake, Turner, The Source cherished your mother, and made many allowances for her. In the end, he really had no choice. One does not disregard one's Life Assignment. "

Life Assignment? I opened my mouth to ask, but Raynor waved his hand...

" All in good time, Lad. Can't learn everything in just one night. Now, off with you, and remember who you are. "

I nodded and bade my Master good night. Back in the dormitory, I was unable to fall asleep right away. My mother had failed to do something and was...what?

Captured? Disgraced?

Killed?

And just what was a Life Assignment? Would I get one?

As I drifted off to sleep, finally, I knew...

I would get one of the best, most important Life Assignments, and I would perform flawlessly. I would banish any lingering doubt about my cursed human half, and redeem my family line in everyones eyes.

I was so arrogant. So naive.

For once the day came for me to receive my Life Assignment, I learned the truth about my Mother's whereabouts...

And my Father's soul.


	3. Chapter 3

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter 3: By Blood, By Soul

By: Alchemystik

As the end of my formal Underworld schooling neared, I began to meet and bond with those demons who, like me, were beginning to take their place in the world above. Some were barely tolerable, like a brown nosing little weasel named Sykes, but others became like family to me.

Like Brothers. Like Vornac.

Vornac was a bit older than I and had already mastered the skills needed to transform from human to demonic entity. It was decided that he would assist me with that new course of study, much to our mutual delight. We would attend law school together, both of us drawn to that murky profession. We shared a love for fine wine and good cigars, not to mention the company of lovely ( and willing ) ladies.

Soon, we were known as The Demonic Duo, and we proved to be the bane of students and mentors alike.

We were placed under the watchful eye of Andras, a wise and powerful demon whom, with Raynor, headed a most secretive and selective of groups; The Brotherhood Of The Thorn. We were being weighed and judged. We were being considered for that grand and glorious future.

Every upper level demon dreamed of being asked to join this elite club, but for every one hundred who dreamed, only one was chosen.

I was fascinated by the Brotherhood, an enclave only five strong, but hand-selected by our Master himself. What power!

Although the concept behind the Brotherhood was as old as time, it's mission was relatively new. The days of overpowering humans and taking what we wanted was over, as the network of travel and communication placed many a perspective target out of reach for weeks at a time.

It was then that His Lordship had an epiphany; Join the ranks of these upwardly mobile humans, play the game right along with them, and, of course, prosper in the end. We demons were entering the business world. No more were graduate demons thrown out into the above ground to fend for themselves, with nothing more than their powers and their wits. Now, we attended human colleges, and woe be the demon who failed a course or displeased a professor! I reveled in my carefully controlled yet curiously free existance above ground, often celebrating with Vornac and a bottle of fine scotch into the wee hours of the morning.

Demons have a peculiar sense of honor; We were planning on taking over the human world, that was true, but to not fully avail oneself of the stellar educational opportunities was considered wasteful and beneath our status. Common. Cheating was strictly forbidden, and if you thought that your mentor, being still below ground was unable to follow your progress, you soon found out otherwise.

Or, I should say, I soon found out otherwise...

I entered Raynor's private room with some trepidation. Not only was I apprehensive and embarrassed at being curtly commanded to appear before him, I was also nursing a monstrous hangover...

I did a double take as I saw an unfamiliar demon seated in Raynor's heavily carved chair. About forty human years, with thick dark hair combed in a high wave in front, reminiscent of that gyrating rocker known as Elvis Presley, this demon regarded me with distaste, staring at me with cold, green eyes. 

" Where is my mentor? " I asked in an insolent and arrogant tone, as befitted my upper level stature. There was no response, just a cold stare, and the heavy drumming of fingers on the arm of the chair.

A drumming that made my fevered and alcohol fueled brain plead silently for mercy.

Finally, the demon cleared his throat and waved me to the small stool kept in the corner. It was then that I saw the gnarled and twisted staff that Raynor had used for a cane as long as I had known him, leaning against the side of the chair.

" Master? " I whispered, striving to sound awestruck and penitent. Unfortunately, the word came out sounding challenging and my poor head flashed with a million bright lights as said staff connected with it.

" Master?! " He mimicked, sarcastically, " Sit down before you fall down, you big oaf! "

I dropped into my stool, reduced once again to a boy who had thought himself a man, but was proven to be otherwise.

With a wave of his hand, Raynor's familiar grizzled countenance returned, and I must've looked impressed enough to satisfy him and warrant an explanation.

" We...the Brotherhood that is, will be spending more and more time above ground, overseeing our students and choosing our target areas. It's essential that we blend in as much as possible. An old man with waist long hair and beard would be noticed, Lad. "

I nodded, my head still throbbing, but I was way too interested in this power Raynor demonstrated to really care about my injuries.

" It's called Shape-Shifting, and a few of us were born with that ability. Others have shown aptitude, and were successfully taught this little trick. Of course, one cannot even THINK of learning to shape-shift before one has mastered their demonic counterpart. "

I hung my head in shame, as those glib words wounded me exactly the way my Mentor intended. Despite my diligent study and Vornac's help, I was still unable to fully access my demonic half, a huge red and black man-creature by the name of Belthazor. A few times I had bulked up slightly, just enough to make Vornac laugh hysterically. Another time, I sported pointed ears and fangs for a few hours, startling my human counterparts, and making me cringe with embarrassment everytime I met Vornac's gaze, and his superior smirk.

" Every power has a catalyst. " Raynor told me, " We must discover what is painful and degrading enough to sway you completely. To turn you fully towards the Dark Side. What you dread, what you fear... "

At that time, my feelings of inadequacies and Raynor's displeasure should've been enough, but my mentor was as wise as he was evil...

He rubbed his hairy chin, and began to berate my performance above ground. I was TOO arrogant, a show-off, a know-it-all. My professors, while pleased with my intelligence, were exasperated by my disruptive nature and self-centered attitude. My colleagues were tired of carting me, cheerfully inebriated and singing horrific Broadway Show Tunes, back home every day, and Vornac...well, suffice it to say, he had regaled my Master with many an embarrassing story. The drinking, the carousing, the girls...

Vornac!

My queasy stomach lurched and my head pounded all the more. My confidante, my BROTHER, was in reality nothing more than a watchdog, a snitch! There was no true friendship or bond there, according to Raynor! I was merely a post-graduate assignment to Vornac, WHO had just been accepted into the Brotherhood of the Thorn! Hand-picked by our Liege Lord! The youngest demon EVER! I had no HOPES of EVER being asked to join! My Mother had been a member, it was my duty to rever her memory, to be BETTER than she was!!

Raynor was relentless, his acid tongue opening wounds all over my psyche and my heart...

I had actually begun to tune him out; I had fixed my face into it's normal arrogant and wary expression, I nodded or looked ashamed at the right moments, but I truthfully do not recall anything he said, until...he said something about my Father.

My real Father.

Raynor held a crystal vial aloft, the light from the torches which lit his chambers making the vessel sparkle like a diamond...

" Never allowed to rest! His soul captured, forbidden to go on for rebirth, or go to the light, or whatever such garbage the churches are spewing these days! HE knows, Turner! He knows what a monumental screw-up his poor excuse for a demonic son TRULY IS!! "

I must have looked as stupid as I felt, because Raynor shook the vessel and I heard...

A moan. A cry for release, a pitiful pleading...

Raynor smiled, triumphantly...

" Behold! Benjamin Coleridge Turner! "

My father.

My father's soul

Held captive all these years...

My Father...

I could hear the cries for mercy, the pleading to a God who didn't even know where he was...

And, something that had been strained without breaking, suddenly gave way...

A roaring of a thousand tortured souls in my ears, my eyes seeing dancing flames and hideous creatures...

My bones crunching and reforming, the muscles bulging and bulking...

With a mighty cry, Belthazor was born...

When I regained consciousness, I was on my pallet in the dormitory. Klea, one of the few female students and a good friend, wiped my forehead with a damp cloth and smiled at me.

" You were magnificent! They will talk of your transformation day for millineums to come, Cole! "

I shut my smarting eyes. All I could see was the crystal vessel that held my father's soul. Where was it? Was it safe?

Why, oh Why did I CARE?!

Raynor had taught me for years about the handicap of my human side. The conscience and the mysterious entity known as the Soul.

It made me different. It made me FEEL!

It's not good to feel when you have to leave mayhem and misery in your wake.

Klea was replaced by the battered, but beaming face of my mentor. I struggled to sit up, to show respect, only to have the crotchety old bastard push me back down on my pillows and cover me as lovingly as a nurse.

" My Boy...what can I say? A triumph! You were everything I expected and more! The Source..."

Raynor clasped his hands together in reverant joy. I almost expected him to swoon..

" He was SO Pleased! He came personally to view the damage you did to my rooms! Not to mention my person! "

Raynor chuckled warmly, called me Son, so proud! He was soon joined by Vornac, who pumped my hand, slapped my shoulder, and stuck a bottle of Glenfidditch under my coverlet.

No truth at all to Raynor's stories, I was assured. Just a good mentor struggling to help his most promising pupil...Vornac would never violated our bond as Blood Brothers...

I listened to them, smiling when I had to,wincing inwardly as I heard them discuss my catalyst.

A human father? Someone I don't even remember? A Human?! How...Quaint.

Finally, the old Sorcerer who tended to our illnesses and injuries shooed everyone away. Let the boy rest, He boomed. We'll celebrate when he's a bit more stable.

Becoming my demonic self nearly killed me, not to mention the damage I wrought in Raynor's rooms and on his person.

The Crystal Vessel? Was it real?

I had grabbed Raynor's sleeve before he could bustle away, and put the question to him.

He smiled down at me, still some warmth on the face, but the eyes were as cold as ice once more...

" Dear Boy, that's not important. It worked, and that's all that counts! "

Could I see the item? Or was it just an illusion? I pressed on with the questions, unable to help myself.

The smile died away, and Raynor looked old and tired..

" Cole. " He said, using my name for the first time, " You did your mother proud today. Even your father, human that he was, would take pride in your acheiving the goals set for you. Be content with that. "

" Was it real?! " I asked for the last time, a bit more forcefully than I intended. Did something flicker in my eye, give warning to Raynor about the creature I could now become?

He sighed, and drew his lips together in a thin line. He turned to go, leaning heavily on his carved stick, and just as I thought I would never know the truth, he looked back over his shoulder and nodded.

Just once.

Once was enough...


	4. Chapter 4

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter 4: Life Assignment

By: Alchemystik

A pecuilar coldness came over me once I had learned to access my demonic form. It was as if my humanity receded as my demon half flourished.

My arrogance was no longer feigned, and my reputation as a viscious and cruel being began. The Brotherhood began to eye me with a renewed interest, and the highest of high, The Triad, entered my life.

Raynor was one of our master's right hand demons; he held one of the greatest, most elite of posts, Chairman of the Triad. As what little good in me fled into the darkest recesses of my being, he began to prime me for my future.

" I'm pleased with you, my son. " Raynor rumbled at me one dark and gloomy night. Law school was over, and I had just secured a position as an Assistant District attorney for the city of San Francisco.

" Thank you, Master. " I said, respectfully, from my stool at his side. I was tired and wished for nothing more than a quick dismissal so that I could return to my small apartment in the upper world.

Part of my human nature remained, but it was channeled into my love of the finer things in life. A comfortable bed, a fine wine and a willing woman...what bliss.

Raynor cleared his throat and glared at me from under his shaggy brows. He had discarded his younger above ground appearance, and looked even older and crankier than usual. I snapped out of my daydreams and paid attention as he outlined my future for me.

" You will be presented to our master tomorrow night, and will receive you life assignment from his hands, PERSONALLY. His Lordship honors your diligence and the memory of your mother, the memory of her gifts. Be respectful but not servile. He expects arrogance but abhors ill-manners. Remember, I brought you up with my own two hands, suffered along with you..."

Wonderful. Raynor had turned into a Mother; if this kept up, he'd be complaining about cramps.

I nodded, and ventured to ask a few questions. Although Raynor looked tired and pissed, I had primed him for this moment by returning from above ground with a particularly fine Cognac. Said cognac had been steadily disappearing down my Mentor's throat, and he appeared almost benevolent towards me tonight.

" Master...what gifts did my Mother possess? "

Raynor choked on a mouthful of cognac, and I took great delight in thumping him on the back until he coud breath again.

" What gifts?! Are you insane after all?! Your mother could charm the birds from the trees, open doors to the homes of the rich and famous with a smile. Men fought duels over her, women found comfort in her very presence! Elizabeth could bend anyone, be they human or demon to her very will, and you, her only child, blood of her blood, can do the same. "

" I can? " I asked, stupidly, and immediately dodged the heavy fist that flew my way. It was a half-hearted thump, as my mentor was walking the fine line between nostalgia and inebriation.

" Certainly! Ah, the times I wanted to fling you down onto the ground and whip you senseless, only to be thwarted by that little boy smile, or the glint in those sea-like eyes..."

The faraway look in his eyes made me worry...he wasn't going to mistake ME for Mother, was he?

" You will hone that gift, and you, too, will bend any and all to your will. You will be as powerful as Elizabeth, and you will not repeat her mistake! "

" What mistake? Stop being so damned cryptic and tell me! "

Something in my voice, my stance, must have communicated itself to Raynor. He looked at me, weighing his words carefully...

" Your Mother's charm was also her downfall. After she failed to kill your father, and became his wife instead, she was given a chance to redeem herself. She was assigned to kill the grandmother of the woman destined to bear those troublesome bitches, the Charmed Ones, may they burn in the lower regions forever! Instead..your mother was swayed by that cursed woman's pleas and allowed her to escape, allowed her to live, allowed her granddaughter to breed those infernal do-gooders! "

Mother failed in her Life Assignment? Not once, but twice? It was incomprehensible that a demon as great and powerful as Elizabeth Turner could be swayed by a mere human!

" And the Source...vanquished her? "

Raynor avoided my stare and heaved himself up from the chair, " Enough chatter, it is late. Tomorrow night, at the sacred midnight hour, you will become a full-fledged demon, my son. Rest well. "

Before I could stop him, he was gone, and I was left with nothing but my thoughts, and more questions. Again, more questions than answers.

Five minutes before midnight the following night, Raynor was fussing around me like the mother of the bride.

" I never could wear black as well as you can. Here, allow me to fix your collar..."

I suffered through his final ministrations with a peculiar sense of urgency. Deep down I knew, I had always known what my destiny was. Mother had never redeemed herself, and Father's soul waiting in a golden vial; both of them relied on me to fulfill my Life Assignment. By doing my job to perfection I would free them both.

And myself.

" Come. " Raynor said, pulling on the sleeve of my finest black robe, " It is time. "

We strode toward the Throne Room, looking neither right nor left. Raynor, his dourness barely masking his excitement and pride, and my sneer of arrogance cleared a path among all the other demons. Vornac and Klea both raised clenched fists in triumph towards me, but I didn't stop to acknowledge their good wishes. I kept my eyes on the huge granite doors that until now, I had never passed through.

We stopped on the threshold, and Raynor muttered his final instructions.

" Respect and humility above all, lad. But never forget who you are or how you came to be here this day. "

I nodded and waited as he made his way down the long, bright aisle. In curious contrast to the dark and dusty surroundings I had grown up in, The Throne Room was alive with light and color. Torches blazed merrily, bouncing off the crystal of lamps and the deeply polished silver mirrors. Red velvet lined the stone walls, and far away upon the dias, a throne of solid gold encrusted with jewels, held the red robed figure of my lord and master.

The Source Of All Evil.

Until now, I had never seen his magnificence. He had been a shadowy presence my entire life, the arbitrator of my fate. Garbed in shimmering red satin, he was larger than life, his hands with the long pointed claws resting lightly on the gleaming arms of his throne. The huge hood hung low about his face and head, for none in this room save my mentor and his other two council members were worthy of the privilege of gazing upon his face.

Raynor reached the bottom step of the dias and flung himself onto his face. Seeing my mentor, the only father I remembered so abased was disturbing in the extreme. After a few moments of conversation, he climbed to his feet, helped by an elderly demon standing to one side. He turned and beckoned to me and I began to walk slowly, with the proper amount of swagger, down the long aisle.

When I reached the halfway point, I stopped and bowed as I had been ordered, holding it for the prescribed five seconds. Now, shoulders back, eyes on the red hood and no where else.

I reached Raynor side after what seemed to be an eternity, and hesitated for a brief second.

" Down! " Raynor hissed in my ear and I knelt as gracefully as possible, hampered as I was by the long formal robe.

" Rise, Belthazor, you are welcome here. " A voice as cold as a grave, yet mesmerizing in it's beauty.

I regained my feet and tried to listen as Raynor outlined my achievements to our master. He listened closely, interrupting only to receive clarification. After a few moments he waved Raynor away and the hood turned towards me.

" We are pleased with you, Belthazor. Never has my old and dear friend, Raynor, waxed so poetic about a charge. Of course, to overcome such a handicap as you possessed is an amazing feat all on it's own, correct? "

Raynor poked me in the back and I answered in a properly subdued voice.

" I crave your pardon for my weakness, Lord, and ask to be allowed to prove my worth to you. "

The Source chuckled lightly, " Ah, you do have Elizabeth's charm, don't you, boy? Dear Elizabeth, such a treasure...such a waste of talent. "

My hands clenched underneath my sleeves. Yes, my mother had been a demon, had killed my father, killed many, but she was still my mother. The bond between Mother and son was a strange bond. Cruel, tender, and possessive to the extreme.

He was baiting me on purpose, and I knew it, so it was relatively easy to keep my face impassive...

But..

He was obviously playing a bit of cat and mouse with me, so I obliged him with a slight grimace or distaste. It was expected of me, and I played the game as I had been taught.

" We expect you to succeed despite the handicap of your humanity. We expect great things from you. "

" Yes, Lord. "

" It will come as no surprise to you to hear your assignment, I'm sure. The bane of our existence, those insufferable witchs, The Charmed Ones, have caused the demise of many of your brethern. "

" Yes, Lord. "

" I want them stopped, Belthazor. I want them dead and gone and I want you to do that for me. Not just for me, but for your Mother, too. "

And then, just for a fleeting instance, I heard the cry of pain and horror. The cry I had heard so long ago. How? How was it that it now appeared again, tonight of all nights? So close..so real.

The Source was still speaking and I forced myself back into reality.

" You will be watched over and guided by the most distinguished of demons, Belthazor. The Triad themselves will be available to you for help and guidance, but..."

A cold chill went through me. Never had any creature filled one tiny word with such forboding...

" But...do not think that just because he has raised you like a father, Raynor would hesitate to destroy you if you should deviate from your path. "

" Yes, Lord. "

" Kill those witches in a timely manner, and I will give you the two things you desire most in life..."

I raised my eyes from the floor as a flash of gold sparkled in the bright light. Not one but TWO golden vials...

" Perform your duty to me and I shall set your Father's soul free..."

" And I shall allow Elizabeth out of the lower regions. I will free her from her eternal darkness and torture. "

The blood pounded in my ears as the two golden chains twirled aimlessly in that clawlike hand.

I saw red, and something in my stance must have alerted Raynor, for he grabbed ahold of my shoulder in a pseudo-fatherly gesture.

" Rest assured, My Lord, Belthazor will not fail you. "

" He better not, old friend. For your sake, too. "

Raynor bowed his head, the painful grip on my shoulder forcing me to do likewise.

I don't recall the ending of the ceremony or the walk back to Raynor's chamber.

I saw only two golden chains whirling and glinting in the light.

And, there and then, I swore that the three witches known as The Charmed Ones would suffer agonies unmentionable at my hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Cole To The Infinte Power

Chapter 5: A Whole New World

By: Alchemystik

My life changed immediately after my presentation to the Source. I signed a lease on a stylish apartment, got my first car, and received a highly significant gift from my mentor.

Raynor placed a huge binder in my arms...

" This is all the information that has been gathered so far on the Halliwell sisters, may they burn in hell. Study it, learn from it, and add to it. "

" Add to it? " I queried. " Why? "

Raynor looked at me steadily. " In case you fail. That way, all that you have learned may benefit your successor. "

" I won't fail. " I told him, arrogantly. " I was born to do this and I will do it well. "

My mentor was silent for a moment and then nodded slowly.

" See that you do. "

It had been a tradition for many a millenium for an upper level demon assigned to a task in the above world to have an under demon to perform menial tasks for him. It freed us to attend to our duties; while we were well-versed in the ways of the human world, those of lesser status learned more basics skills in the hopes that they may serve an elite member someday.

Translation? I couldn't cook, hadn't a clue about shopping or doing laundry, and had no idea how to balance a checkbook. I was like a baby thrust into a hostile world with only my wits to aid me. The mentors knew this, and had planned for this contingency. They offered us sub-demons. Well-trained, well-informed sub-demons. Those with more brains and less arrogance than I would have jumped at the offer.

Me?

I refused. I was half-human, so by my calculations I could master any human task placed before me.

Need I say I failed my first round of " humanity " miserably? Not even the best equipment money could buy, and a cookbook that used the word " Dummy " could help me turn out an edible meal.

It was then I discovered how humans have survived for so long...

Fast food. Dry Cleaners. Helpful females in local banks.

Once I became able to function...or at least eat, I turned to my parting gift from Raynor.

The dossier.

I settled myself into a comfortable chair, poured a glass of fine Scotch ( a Good Luck gift from Vornac ) and opened the heavy volume.

I was immediately immersed in the family history of the Warren-Halliwell line.

From a witch named Charlotte to the present Charmed Ones, it was a story steeped in magic and vision. Despite my hatred for all witches, I was not unmindful of the formidable strength of my adversaries. I couldn't but feel a grudging respect for these young women.

I arrived at the part of the dossier describing the witches themselves. Raynor had thoughtfully provided me with a plethora of photographs, and I would study them carefully. I was well aware that the success of my mission depended on my ability to get close to the sisters. To gain the  
their trust. If not all three of them, then just one. I had to capture her attention...her trust. And in the midsts...

Capture the enduring legacy of their powers...

The Book Of Shadows.

Every witch in the line of Melinda Warren had recorded vital information about my ilk. Our powers, our tactics; our failures. Every spell used, every potion brewed was within that book, and my superiors wanted it.

Wanted it desperately. Not satisfied with the Charmed Ones demise, the Underworld Elite wanted to make sure that Book also ceased to exist. For it to fall in the wrong hands could be disasterous.

I yawned and looked at the clock on my desk. It was just after midnight, and I had a full day of court ahead of me. Perhaps I should leave this for tomorrow night.

As I put the binder down, the pages flipped open to the pictures of the Halliwell sisters.

I glanced down casually, vaguely interested in what my adversaries looked like...

The first picture was that of the eldest sister, Prue. A haughty female, vaguely Celtic in appearance. Dark hair, light eyes, a look of strength and purpose in an attractive face.

Not a woman to trifle with, and I quickly dismissed her as a likely candidate. If one made a pass at Prue Halliwell, it had better be polite.

The second sister, Piper, had a sweetly anxious face and enormous brown eyes. Not beautiful but certainly not plain, perhaps it was the square jawline and determined chin that made me pass her by. She could very well be tougher than she looked.

I flipped to the last page and felt my heart turn over in my chest. The last sister...

Phoebe.

Golden brown hair and tanned skin, eyes like premium sherry and a wistful smile on pouting lips.

She looked nothing at all like the ebony and ivory beauty of Elizabeth Turner. My Mother.

Then why did Mother's faint memory leap into my brain?

I stared at the beautiful face, and slowly saw the vulnerability, the slightly lost look in the eyes.

I nodded, and slowly closed the dossier.

Phoebe Halliwell.

She was my ticket in.

I blithely went to my bed, unaware that I had made a decision that would change my very existence.

A decision that would make me more human than I ever dreamed possible.

My job as an Assistant District Attorney was demanding, and I was determined to do it to the best of my ability. Consequently, the dossier gathered dust in a drawer, hidden from the weekly cleaning lady.

Late one hot afternoon, I let myself into the dark coolness of my new home only to find my mentor comfortably seated in my favorite chair. While I was irritated, I couldn't help but grin at his choice of reading material.

He had found my stash of...ahem...gentlemen's magazines.

I tossed my briefcase and suit coat on the couch, and made my way to the small table that held my assortment of liquor. I cleared my throat, and when Raynor looked up I gestured to a bottle of scotch. He nodded, and returned his attention to the magazine.

I delivered his glass to his side just as the centerfold opened up and his eyes nearly left his head.

" Yes, well...interesting. " He blustered, tossing the magazine aside.

I grunted and sat down on the couch, studiously ignoring the stern look cast my way.

" Well? " He finally asked.

" Well what? " I answered, well aware of the enormous amount of work I had waiting in my briefcase.

" How goes the assignment? " He asked from under the shaggy gray brows.

" Oh, that. " I said in an offhanded manner. " Work has been very demanding of late, and..."

I got no further, for the trusty cane that just a second before had been leaning against the chair, made contact with the top of my head.

He sat quietly as I gathered my swimming senses together once again. He then spoke in a manner of a kindly grandfather to a recalcitrant grandson.

" While I admire you dedication and your respect for the fine educational opportunity we afforded you, it would be well to remember your true purpose in life. "

" Yes, master. " I said, my head throbbing and my ego burning. Wasn't I done with the schoolroom?!

" These witches continue to be the bane of our demonic existance, and His Lordship wants them stopped. Now. "

I frowned, " I thought this was a Life Assignment? "

Raynor's eyes shifted to the right and then to the left. " It is..well, it was. But we, the Triad, feel that our master will rest a bit easier if those infernal females we're stopped once and for all. We are suffering heavy losses. "

I nodded, and looked at him with the superiority of youth and inexperience. " Rest assured that these pests will be dealt with swiftly and permanently. Our master will soon rest easy. "

Raynor frowned, " You've studied the book I gave you? "

" I have. " I answered, inclining my head.

Raynor paused, studying my closely, " And you still feel confident? "

" Of course! " I answered forcefully, " After all, they're only witches, and you've taught me well. "

Raynor closed his eyes briefly and gave me a long-suffering look. " These are no ordinary witches, boy. These three women are the product of a force of magic that we are unfamiliar with. Attempts were made eons ago to annihilate the first witch, and we failed then. While confidence is admirable, do not think they are your average vermin. They are as elite as you are. "

I paused, considering his words well. " I understand and I thank you for your time and advice. "

Raynor lumbered to his feet, shaking his head. " Do not let your heart rule your head, Cole. "

I stared at him for a moment, but before I could open my mouth he had shimmered away.

What did he mean by that parting remark? How could my heart overcome years of training, not to mention my formidable pedigree?

It was only later, as I prepared for bed, that I got a brief chuckle.

It seemed that Raynor had taken his reading material with him...

My opportunity to encounter the Charmed Ones came sooner than I thought...sooner than I was prepared for.

An upper level demon was operating in my vicinity, with the help of Guardians.

I wrinkled my nose with distaste. Guardians were powerful, but dumb; they cared not who they operated for or through.

Someone with a bit of class and knowledge was orchestrated a mini-coup in my territory...

And we demons are fanatically territorial, so my attention was immediately riveted on the area.

My area. My courthouse. These idiots had even attracted the attention of the police; and a certain police officer known as Darryl Morris was spearheading this investigation...and was an intimate friend of the Halliwell sisters.

The Charmed Ones were on the case.

" Report this " I said over my shoulder to the shadow demon that was my connection to the underworld and the Triad.

" Let Raynor know that this intruder will be dealt with immediately. "

As it slid away to do my bidding I said over my shoulder...

" The Charmed Ones will be dealt with as well. "


	6. Chapter 6

Cole ToThe Infinite Power

Chapter 6: The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face...

By: Alchemystik

I bided my time and the call from the Distict Attorney's office finally came. A murderous " cult " was operating in the vicinity; ritualistc style slayings where the victims had a strange rune carved into their foreheads. The police had asked for the assistance of our office and would I be interested in heading the investigation?

I agreed in a cool manner, all the while the excitement churned within me. This was it; the time for my first contact with the Charmed Ones had arrived.

" Report! " I barked over my shoulder, and the shadow slunk away...

I was ready.

I dressed in a casual yet preppie style, and put my I.D. badge on. When I reached the scene, I deliberately avoided looking at the three women standing with the officer known as Darryl Morris. I cruised the area, shaking my head at the amateur theatrics of the unknown demon usurper. Demonic Guardians! How desperate do you have to be to use those lowlifes? They were only one step above a Bounty Hunter on the food chain in the eyes of an Upper level demon like myself.

I took a deep breath, and then made my way over to where the Halliwell sisters were standing.

" Turner, Cole Turner. I work with the D.A.'s office..." I smiled warmly, turned on my considerable charm, and watched the reaction.

The eldest sister, Prue, turned unfriendly and suspicious eyes on me, while the middle sister, Piper, looked distressed and a bit confused. I could tell that they were still slightly uncomfortable with their " status ", terrified that their " secret " would somehow be uncovered.

I had avoided looking at the youngest, Phoebe, and finally steeled myself to turn in her directions. Two shining brown eyes floated in a smooth tanned face, golden brown hair casually tousled.

Heat flowed through me, firing my imagination and my loins. What a gorgeous creature, and she was mine. Mine!

Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing over the roar in my ears. I know I answered, but I cannot tell you what my responses were. All I know is at the end of the conversation, she had my card...

And my interest.

The next evening, I was carefully recording the facts and my impression of the first contact, when Raynor shimmered into the room.

I rose respectfully, seated him in a comfortable chair and poured him a glass of his favorite scotch.

" Ah, a very good blend. " He replied with delight, smacking his lips. " You are learning the ways of this world. "

I inclined my head and waited to hear the reason behind his visit.

He was watching me closely, and to my dismay I could feel myself beginning to flush.

Finally he cleared his throat. " You've met them? "

" Yes, Master. "

" And? " he asked, a grizzled eyebrow raised.

I took a second to collect myself and launched into what I hoped was a dispassionate recital.

" While their power is like a noxious cloud about them, the sisters are still unsure of themselves and their destiny. I believe I can exploit that uncertainty and use it to our advantage. "

Raynor nodded thoughtfully, and held his glass out for a refill. " Your analysis of them as individuals?

I was thoughtful for a moment; " The eldest bears the scars of their fight against our kind. She is suspicious of all she meets now, ready to fight to the death to protect her sisters. "

He was silent so I continued...

" The middle one reeks of good. I believe the report states that she is engrossed with a whitelighter? "

Raynor nodded, and look of utter distaste on his face. " Yes. Those do-gooders make life for us so difficult at times. The other side frowns on such consortment, so do not hesitate to exploit that relationship if you have the chance. "

" Yes, Master. "

" Continue. "

I bowed my head, looking at my loosely linked hands. I did not want Raynor to see my face as I spoke of Phoebe...

" The youngest appears to be carefree, the one most in touch with and the most suited for her craft. But, I detect a certain vulnerability, an almost naivety in her. "

Raynor watched me steadily and I tried to make my voice as unconcerned as possible.

" I feel that she would be the one who I can approach the easiest. The oldest is too strong, both mentally and emotionally, and the middle sister is too wrapped up in her hopeless romance. Phoebe appears unattached and ripe for a bit of dalliance. "

Raynor leaned forward, a frown on his face; " Can this infiltration not be acheived without a " dalliance? " "

I took a deep breath, " I did not mean dalliance in the physical sense. I merely meant that she might respond best to flattery and interest from a man. "

" You aren't just a man, my boy. " Raynor explained more gently than he had ever spoken to me. " You are Elizabeth's son. Never forget that. "

Our visit was mundane after that, and he soon left.

Left me wondering why he had invoked the name of my mother...

I engineered occasions where I could intercept Phoebe Halliwell. Although she was merely a means to an end, I found her to be intelligent, witty and vulnerable. Very vulnerable.

And lovely. So very lovely. A delight to behold.

She shied away from disclosing any real information about her family, fiercely protective of her secret status and her sisters' well-being.

I called her, flirted gently, pried subtlely. I visited her home, only to be met by that infernal whitelighter, Leo Wyatt.

He was polite and pleasant, a most annoying trait of those of his ilk. I wanted to crush him to dust, yet...he had entry to that inner sanctum that I craved. He knew them well. He knew where they kept their Book of Shadows.

I knew Phoebe's favorite food, learned her love of B type horror movies and made myself available to her at all times.

Vornac visited and joked about my infatuation with not only a human witch, but a Charmed One at that.

I laughed in return, all the while my fingers itched to choke that smug smile off his leering face.

I even helped their cause, albeit without their knowledge. I rid them and the rest of the world of the upper level demon posing as a judge(!) of all things, deflected lesser demons bent on making a name for themselves and bided my time.

I had almost convinced myself that I could smile into those velvet brown eyes, kiss those pouting red lips and win my way into her heart and home without any visible effort on my part.

I knew she was infatuated with me, and I must admit that my manly pride was tickled. It was only late at night, alone in my bed, that the thoughts I fought desperately to supress rose to the surface.

I wanted this woman. Wanted her fiercely, and my assignment began to recede into the background...

Until the chance of a lifetime presented itself.

On All Hallow's Eve, a day sacred to those who practiced both the white and black arts, a call for help transported the Charmed Ones back to the 1600s.

Their mission? To save the matriarch of their line, Melinda Halliwell. Save her expectant mother from losing that most important child to the clutches of evil.

It was decided that I, too, would journey back and ensure that the Charmed Ones failed in this mission. With Melinda Warren eliminated, there WAS no Power Of Three!

I would fulfill my assigment with ease, receive the accolades of all demons, sit at our master's right hand!

I would see my father's soul at peace and release my mother from her endless torment.

I would be omnipotent!

How naive is the man who disregards his own heart...


	7. Chapter 7

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter 7: My Master, Myself

By: Alchemystik

Here it was, the perfect way to destroy the Charmed Ones! They would heed the call from an ancestress, and scurry away like good little witches. Scurry into the past...

Where they were powerless.

I wasn't sure if they were aware of the limits to their powers yet, and I certainly wasn't going to be the demon to inform them.

I plotted, planned, gloated and emoted. The shadow demon assigned as my courier could be heard mumbling curses under it's breath as I sent it below ground a dozen times an hour.

I would seek out a practioner of the Black Arts named Ruth. She had already set the plan into motion by kidnapping the Halliwell's great-great...whatever number it was, grandmother. Said grandmother was on the verge of giving birth to Melinda Warren, the powerful founder of their bloodline. Ruth, a well meaning but naive woman, thought that by capturing this poor girl, she could raise this powerful child in the dark way, and everything would work out just swell for her.

I chuckled and shook my head. It took years of diligent study under a master hand ( and a few hundred blows from the master's staff! ) before I realized that the power of Good is rarely swayed that easily.

Unless...

Unless you were born in certain power rich places. Or times.

My dearest Phoebe had been born at the Halliwell manse, the site of a spiritual Nexus of awesome proportions. My Master was well aware of this treasure that dwelled beneath the basement floor, and that made him all the more eager to squash this damnable women like the bugs they were. For those of the lighter side of magic, the Nexus was basically benign, but those of us who lived in the velvet darkness of the darker side...

What a vast source of power! Even a " good " witch, one with just a bit more daring and guile than most, could be swayed by the seductive force of evil eminating from a Nexus.

Phoebe was just such a witch. A bit on the wild side, a bit careless with her affections and her trust. The Nexus liked witches like her, and I knew for a fact that she had battled that ancient enemy at least once before.

She had won that time. But, oh, how I lay awake at night, dreaming of turning that seductive yet innocent girl to the dark side. By killing at least one sister, the threat ended. so was it really necessary to dispose of Phoebe? At least, until I had had my fill of her...

I roused myself from my daydreams and returned to the task at hand.

Time was also a factor. The great event was scheduled to take place on All Hallow's Eve; a day sacred to both the dark and the light, where the veil between worlds open just for a short while.

But the Charmed Ones would be powerless, and I almost pitied them.

Almost.

My enthusiasm should have bouyed my mentor, but when he popped in later that night, he appeared tired and just a tad on the grim side.

" Is it really necessary to send that infernal shadow down to me every five minutes?! " He yelled, stumping over to my ( and now obviously his ) favorite chair.

" I was in the Council, and you have no idea how much snickering I heard when that wretched thing kept creeping in! "

I bowed my head to hide a smile, " I'm sorry, Master, but you asked me to keep you informed. Scotch? "

" Hmph. " Raynor grumbled, but I had temporarily appeased him, and he sat down heavily, accepting a glass of his favorite libation.

I poured a splash of the liquor over a few ice cubes and raised my glass. Raynor followed suit, intoning the standard toast.

" May the Source of all Evil prevail. "

" May it always be so. " I answered and threw back the scotch before Raynor could discern that all I had really done was wet the ice cubes. I needed my wits about me, and was not about to get into an all-nighter with the boss.

Not tonight, at least.

Raynor looked older and more fatigued than usual, and except for his opening harangue, sat in morose silence.

" Would you like to see my battle plans? " I asked him, knowing that he did. He still wanted to be involved in all aspects of my life, much to my repeated annoyance.

But this time he just shook his head.

" Would you care to discuss the protocol I will use? " I asked again, even more respectful, and now just a tad nervous.

The grizzled head lifted, and the bright eyes peered at me intently. But still, silence reigned.

The nervousness increased, but I'd be damned to hell for all eternity before I gave the cranky old bastard the satisfaction of seeing me sweat.

I returned to the dossier, making notes, looking at the astrological charts to see how the stars would align. Busy work. Let him brood for awhile, he'll eventually tell me whatever it was that was on his mind.

We sat thus, I busily preparing, him morosely drinking.

Finally, after what seemed to be an hour he roused himself to speak.

" You appear confident. "

I shrugged, " I am confident, I have planned well, utilizing the tools you have instilled in me. "

" Hmmm. " He mused, " And, you are sure you will succeed? "

" I..." I stopped myself, looking at the lined old face. He was seeking something from me. But, what?

" I HOPE to succeed, but if I do not, I will take what I have learned and try again. "

There! That would appease him, I thought.

CRACK!

The blow from the heavy staff was as painful as it was unexpected and I slumped forward towards the desk, fighting to remain conscious.

" You arrogant young pup. " Raynor said softly, yet with venom. " You are Elizabeth's get, no doubt at all! "

I fell to my knees in front of him, head aching and bent. Even now, I could not fool him. No matter how much I tried.

" I..I don't understand. I'm following the guidelines for planning, as you have taught me, Master. " This time, I was humble, and he responded with a distant kindness.

" Seat yourself and listen well. " He growled and I complied, my head still spinning.

" You have your Mother's beauty of person, her charm and her arrogance. That I can tolerate, even admire, but you have inherited her biggest weakness. "

Raynor paused, but I had learned my lesson. Painfully, but I saw it now. My confidence was forced, as were my intentions. Raynor knew I was intrigued by the Halliwells and mesmerized by Phoebe. He knew I was not of the mindset to vanquish them yet, no matter how much I denied it.

He knew, and was not swayed by my outward display of bravado.

" Your Mother, skilled though she was, had the same weakness that you now exhibit. You are curious about your adversaries; you are enthralled by the witch, Phoebe. That is your human side fighting for dominance, and it must NOT BE SO!! "

I cringed, expecting another blow as his voice rose, but Raynor sat back in his chair, watching.

" I truly intend to end their existence, Master, please believe that. It's just..."

My voice trailed off. I was over one hundred years old, and here I was, blushing like a schoolboy in front of a stern father.

" I understand, Cole. " Raynor said in a quiet and incredibly kind voice. " You are half human and for years have denied that part of you. You wish to live half in this world and half in ours, but my dear boy...that cannot be. "

I lowered my head in shame. How arrogant indeed! To think I can fool the man who had raised me from childhood, who knew and cared more about me than any other creature alive.

Raynor continued. " You will lose all if you tread any further down this path. Play your little games with her if you must, but never ever forget the objective. She is our sworn enemy, she and all like her. If you allow her to live, you condemn us to death. "

I looked up at the old and tired face. Something very akin to love gleamed in those worn eyes.

" Master, I am ashamed and you are correct. I hope to be successful tomorrow night, but...I understand their power and the danger I encounter just being in the realm of their influence. "

" Good. " Raynor nodded, approvingly. " Try tomorrow, but be watchful. See how much they have learned, how much they WILL learn. If it is feasible, end them. If not, take your knowledge with you and apply it to the next encounter. "

I nodded, and Raynor hoisted himself out of the chair, using his walking stick and then my shoulder.

" It is hell to be so old. " He grumbled and we shared a quiet chuckle between us.

I was chastised and wished him to know that his words had born fruit.

" Master...I..."

Raynor held up his hand to stop my stumbling speech. The hand that had struck such a viscious blow now patted my shoulder.

" You're a good boy, Cole. I know you will never let me down. "

I bowed my head in reverence and thanks and in the next instance, he was gone.

I slept little that night...but when I did I dreamed of a vanquish.

A special vanquish.

But not of vanquishing the Charmed Ones...

I dreamt of killing Raynor.

The next morning Phoebe called and reminded me to join her and her sisters at their nightclub P3 for the Halloween party later that evening. I said all the right things, and heard the yearning in her voice. I responding in kind, luring her on.

All too soon, the portal opened and I, suitably attired for the 17th century, departed.


	8. Chapter 8

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter 8: Lost In A Distant Dream

By: Alchemystik

I had no problem locating Ruth, as the atmosphere around her cabin resembled that of a local fair. Men sold candied fruit, and the All Hallow's Eve masks were prevelant.

Inside the cabin, a middle aged practitioner of the dark arts watched over a young red-headed woman, obviously in the middle of labor. Her hostility was predictable and I basically dismissed her from my mind.

What I couldn't dismiss was the pure power eminating from her womb. A blazing white aura of that power of good surrounded the expectant mother, and made me wary.

Trying to caution Ruth was a lost cause. She was respectful of my power, but was lost in the certainty that she and her ilk would triumph that night. I supressed a smile of superiority; one needed at least fifty years of demonic education to fully understand the power of good. They do not give up easily, and unlike the arrogance of the dark side, they learn from their mistakes.

Ruth had amulets that detected good witches hung around the cabin, and a large collection of guards. I warned her that that would not be enough to stop the Charmed Ones, but she scoffed, obviously irritated with my superior knowledge. I decided that I would take a back-seat, and watch the events unfold.

I felt a tingle when the sisters landed in this time and place. I was attuned to them, to Phoebe, in many ways. I felt the confusion, quickly followed by the dismay of discovery.

They were powerless here. Helpless against the many men who roamed the hills, searching for the " good ones " Ruth knew were here.

They were sheltered in a cave occupied by the coven of which the expectant mother, Charlotte was a part. They were being instructed in the heritage they had long since lost, and time alone would tell if they could indeed tap into their " inner witch ".

I watched Charlotte, so vulnerable, so defiant. How easily I could have waved my hand and ended her life and the life within her. Why didn't I?

I excused myself, and wandered through the crowd outside. I wrestled with that question over and over. Why didn't I just end Charlotte miserable life? What was she in the scheme of things? By killing her, the Charmed Ones would cease to exist.

But...

It was too easy. Where was the challenge? The heat and promise of my relationship with Phoebe yearned to be consummated, and I refused to end her life until I had had my fill of her.

My plan for today had been to end the life of one of her sisters, preferably the antagonistic Prue. One sister gone ended the threat, and my Master couldn't help but be pleased by the outcome.

I strolled through the crowd, my senses alert, my face protected by a plain black mask. I wrinkled my nose at the odors that assaulted me. Roasted pig, unwashed humans and...

Witches!

The amulets glowed and gave off their alarm. The sisters had obviously not listened to their mentor about the power of our kind, even in this unenlightened days. The guards shouted, women screamed, dogs barked...and I tensed. For I sensed something else.

A traitor.

Someone in motley crew smelled not just of dung and excessive body odor. but reeked of good. Somewhere, the Charmed Ones had an ally.

I took my time and reached the tree where they were determined to hang the sisters.

I was in a quandry. Did I let it play out, not tamper with the scenario? Or did I save them for a greater more glorious death at my own hands later.

The choice was removed from me when I spotted a young man known as Michah. The knots he had tied aroundthe sisters' necks were not the lethal " hangman's knot " which would break their necks instantly. Rather he had tied an innocuous knot that would protect them from injury, while making it appear to all present that they had indeed perished for their crimes.

I hung back, fascinated. The young man uttered the common phrase said to condemn a witch to death, all the while staring hungrily into Prue Halliwell's eyes. Well, well...

Ms. Iron Britches was the cause of this defection. Michah was bent on saving her, and I couldn't help but wonder if the other side had sent their own protanginist, just as the Triad had sent me. Perhaps my ilk had seriously underestimated Good's reach. It wouldn't be the first time that had intercepted our plans. Spies ran rampant on both sides and we were powerless to stop it.

Sure enough, as I hid myself among the trees, as soon as the crowd disperse, the sisters were able to free themselves, and continue on their ineptly merry way.

I was amused, confused and just a little worried. These women, these Charmed Ones were a bit more formidible than I had anticipated. I made my way back to Ruth's, where the carnival like atmosphere still prevailed.

Inside the cabin, Charlotte's labor progressed and Ruth's arrogance grew. I warned her that nothing was ever as it seems in the realm of magic, but she dismissed me as pessimistic. I shrugged and donned my mask again. Something outside called to me...

I was the first to notice that the amulets had fallen to the ground. Not long after, well-masked and garbed in the clothing of the time, the Halliwell sisters began to mingle iwth the crowd outside of Ruth's cabins.

I had warned the guards to be vigilant, but Ruth wasn't able to afford much gold, which was the only language thesed ruffians understood. Therefore, they weren't as diligent as they might have been. The sisters would make a play for Charlotte and I was tore about what my role would be.

Part of me wanted, needed to move against them, but another side was much more dispassionate, almost analytical. I wanted to see if the Halliwells had succeeded in tapping into their " inner witch. " While their active powers were useless, the ancient knowledge that guided their craft was always there, waiting for them to rediscover it's mysteries.

My mind on other matters, I almost collided with Phoebe. As it so happened, a charlatan piped up, offering the lady a way to discern her " true love. "

Even with the mask covering half of her face, I could see the lovely brown eyes fill with wonder and curiosity.

" How? " She asked, breathlessly, and the unwashed serf explained the use of an apple peel and a bowl of water.

" Use the knife to peel on long piece of the apple and drop it into the water in my bowl. The piece of peel will form the first letter of your true love's name. "

Phoebe obliged and the long piece of peel hit the water, almost instantly forming into the letter " C ".

" Cole. " She said softly, and I felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck my body.

And my heart.

True love? Was I indeed this young witch's true love?

Was she mine? Was this what Raynor feared and warned about?

All that was human in me rose up. Love. Pure and innocent, unconditional and all-consuming.

As my demon half receded, the human part flowered. I would NOT exterminate the Charmed Ones today. I would watch and record their progress...

...and I would revel in this all too new and vaguely frightening feeling.

Human love.

The rest of the events flowed together as I watched, half alert. Charlotte was spirited away, and the witches had indeed connected with their ancient ways.

As Charlotte gave birth within a magical circle of protection, I informed Ruth that she was too late. The witches had learned from the past and had triumphed. Melinda Warren had entered the world, assuring the Charmed Ones continued existence. I had failed and would have to face the Triad to explain.

But, I had won a battle of my own this day.

I had to destroy the power of the Halliwell witches, but I didn't have to destroy Phoebe in the process. Just one death ended the threat, and I would be there, tender and understanding as my loved one sobbed out her pain and misery.

I had failed. And I had prevailed.

I couldn't help but wonder what my mentor would make of this development. I had a inkling of his reception to my report and my head already ached at the thought.

The sisters had returned to their time, but I lingered, still slightly in shock.

Love. I, Belthazor, an upper level demon of some reknown was in love with a woman. And not just any woman. My sworn enemy, the person I had sworn, at the ceremony where I received my Life Assignment, to annihilate.

What a tangled web we weave...

I was late. I should have been to the party at P3 one hour ago, but I moved as if underwater. My shadow self had been dispatched with the full written report, the main reason for my tardiness.

I had dressed carefully in a costume designed to confuse and to mock. I wore a white robe, with a halo fastened to my head and a pair of bright wings on my back.

Self-parody at it's very best.

Phoebe had been scanning the crowd, no doubt anxiously awaiting my arrival. She hadn't changed from her 15th century garb, which only served to enhance her beauty, and her considerable charms.

Our eyes met and our smiles said all our lips could not.

Love.

It would prove to be the death of me, but, oh...how I relished those first carefree days.

And if I had the chance; I'd do it all over again.


	9. Chapter 9

Cole to the Infinite Power

Chapter 9: The Many Faces Of Love...

By: Alchemystik

It was quite late when I returned from the party at P3. Phoebe and I had danced, closely with eyes for no one else but each other. We had drank little, yet I felt light headed and at peace. The entire world seemed to have a gentle glow about it, and if I hadn't been wearing that absurd costume, I would have loved to have walked in the cool night air. With her by my side.

But reality reared it's ugly head as soon as I entered my condo. I had just stripped off my costume and was clad in nothing more than a pair of trousers when I felt as if steel clamps were placed around my legs, and I was dragged downward.

Down to the Underworld, to stand in the circle in the Chamber of the Triad...

Vornac was there, sporting a slight smile, but Raynor's craggy old face looked like a thunderhead.

" Explain yourself! " His voiced rumbled, but before I could say a word, he summarily dismissed Vornac.

I dropped to my knees, figuring that a little respect might save me from his righteous anger, but he motioned me back onto my feet.

" Stand up! I will not be mocked by your feigned humility! "

I got to my feet and for the first time felt fear. I had done the unthinkable; I had let my humanity override my good sense.

" Master, I..."

" Silence! " Raynor thundered. " I have just spent more hours than I care to count talking our Lord out of destroying you! Did you really think we would not discover your treachery?! "

I stood there mutely, and then Raynor did an extraordinary thing. He raised a finger to his lips and then pointed upwards. I couldn't see anything particular when I looked up; just the same smoke-blackened rocks I remembered from before. He beckoned me to his side, and before I knew it, we had shimmered back to my home.

Raynor stumped over to " his chair " and grunted as he sat down. I hastened to place a footstool in front of him and he gratefully put his lame leg up on it.

" Don't just stand there gawking at me, boy. " He grumbled, " My throat is parched! "

I hurried to fix him a double scotch on the rocks, adding a touch of tonic and a slice of lemon. He nodded approvingly and sipped slowly while I changed into the sweat pants and the t-shirt I usually slept in.

" Scared you, didn't I? " Raynor asked, his whiskers twitching slightly, as if he was indeed smiling under that wild of hair.

I nodded slowly, and got myself a cold bottle of water, which he looked at in amused distaste.

" I'm dehydrated. " I explained, and sat down acrossed from him. Finally, I got the courage to ask the question.

" Is our Master maddened by my failure? "

Raynor continued to sip his drink with obvious pleasure, looking at me with those bright beetle black eyes.

Finally, he condesended to put me out of my misery...

" Our Lord is frustrated with your slowness, but he truly did not expect you to be successful. "

" Why not? " I bristled in my arrogant way.

" My dear boy. " Raynor explained, patiently, " You weren't exactly dealing with those of our mental stature now, were you? "

True. As Raynor so politely pointed out, those beings that inhabited the 17th century in this country were driven by their fears and superstitions and little else.

Basically, my mentor was calling them morons. I concurred.

" He is not angry? " I asked, humbly.

" Oh, he's angry. " Raynor answered, " Just not at you. "

I scratched my head. It was 3:30am, and I was exhausted; was I missing something?

" Our Master is angry that these two-bit witches are not as easy to annihilate as some of their counterparts. I regret to say that you will have company soon, my boy. I tried to prevent it, but one does not tell the Source of all Evil that he is wrong. Not and live, that is. "

I nodded in agreement, yet dismissed the slur placed on the Charmed Ones. Two-bit they were NOT.

Prue was a combination of beauty and brains. She was tough, loyal and devoted. Not too mention a tad to powerful for my taste.

Piper was sweet and anxious, with lovely hair and velvet brown eyes. Her love for her whitelighter was definitely a mark against her, but she was steady, able and family oriented. Her powers were also such that I did not care to provoke her unless absolutely necessary.

My Phoebe. While no Rhodes Scholar, she was street smart, and so lovely...that taffy colored hair and sherry brown eyes against the golden tan of her skin...her smooth, supple skin...how I loved to touch her.

She had finally received an active power, while still honing her power of premonition. All her years of Martial Arts had paid off as she gained the ability to levitate. Phoebe was not a young lady you wanted to meet and annoy in a dark alley.

Not unless you relished a thorough ass whoopin'.

" I understand the Source's anxiety, but wouldn't more demons put our mission in jeopardy? "

Raynor drained his glass and hefted himself to his feet with the help of his staff and my arm.

" You're a good boy, Cole. " He said, fondly, patting my arm.

" I know you will beat the others to the prize. "

It was then I realized that love wears many faces, and comes in many different forms.

Raynor had raised me with as much love as any demon was able to manifestate. He genuinely saw me as the son he never had, and I must admit that I was deeply touched by that revelation.

That I loved him was without question. This was the only father I remembered. I loved him and revered him.

It would not stop me from killing him if necessary, though.

And visa versa...

He was gone before I could ask him for details.

Others? Whom would Our Lord send?

And how would I protect the sisters while retaining my secret?


	10. Chapter 10

Cole To The Infinite Power

In Love & War

By: Alchemystik

So, there it was. Not only was I still looking for the perfect opportunity to conquer the Charmed Ones, my Master would now be sending other demons to " help out. " It didn't feel like a gesture of kindness, rather an implication that I was not the right demon for the job. That stung. We demons are an arrogant lot, and do not suffer intrusions on our turf lightly.

I narrowed my eyes in thought; who would it be? Grimlocks? No, too fragile and already known to the sisters. It would have to be someone not only unknown, but able to operate in secrecy.

Shadow demons, perhaps? I dismissed that idea outright, as a shadow demon relied on the power of a life force to brings IT'S power to fruitation. The Charmed Ones would detect a loss of life power in an instant.

Scratch them from the list.

I was pondering my unknown adversary, when the phone rang. Upon answering it, I found that the Halliwell sisters were under seige. Well, one of them was.

It seemed that Prue was becoming the target of stalker-like activity, and somehow my name had popped up in conversation. I laughed it off, cajoled my sweetheart into telling me what their schedule was like these days and hung up to plot my course of action.

As I had mentioned previously, I wasn't in any mood to surrender my soon-to-be-lover, but...

If I could just get my hands on their sacred Book of Shadows, The Source would be temporarily appeased, and I could look forward to enjoying Phoebe's ample charms.

The problem with that plan was that their cursed Book protected itself against evil, much like our Grimoire did, only in the opposite way.

There were spells I could use, though, that would remove the Book from it's sanctuary, and send it down to the Underworld. Let the Triad figure out how to use the damn thing; my job would be to simply steal it.

It was later that night that I found out that Prue had been attacked at the Manor, but had fought off her assailant successfully. I hurried to the manor to lend my "assistance" and offer my "condolences."

As usual, the feisty eldest sister was not happy to see me, and asked in a suspicious way about how I had come acrossed the knowledge of her attack.

Thankfully, Phoebe came to my rescue, scolding her sister, all the while smiling at me warmly and in an inviting way.

Oh, yes. She would be mine, and I would kill any man, demon, or beast who dared to stand in my way...

As days went by, I made various attempts to procure that rotten Book, but no matter what I tried, it availed me not. It did indeed protect itself from evil. In fact, that Book went so far as to BITE my hand, which did not help my temper at that time.

It was during one of these forays that I found out that an adversary had indeed arrived from the Underworld, and was using his unusual powers to gain access to MY witches!

Troxa, the Demon of Invisibility was on the case, and I cursed him for the bastard he was. In fact, my anger was such that Raynor felt it, and hobbled his way above ground to see why I was kicking up such a fuss.

When he shimmered into the room, I rolled my eyes, and hastily turned away so he would not see the disgusted look on my face. This I did NOT need!

" I felt a disturbance coming from you, my son. " He rumbled, and limped his way over to " our " favorite chair.

I automatically poured us some scotch, and this time, I did not stint myself. I ignored Raynor's look of disapproval and slumped down in a chair opposite him, a brooding look on my face and a double scotch on the rocks in my hand.

Raynor waited patiently. He knew my moods all too well, having been with me virtually my whole life. I don't believe I ever pouted quite as much as a child as I did that night, and he became exasperated with me.

" What nightmare demon has bitten your ass? " He asked, glaring at me with those bright black eyes.

" An INVISIBILITY demon?! " I raged, " How unfair is that?! "

Raynor waved his hand wearily, " Please. They're easy to destroy, not nearly as high level or complex as you are, Turner. "

I was still pouting, completely out of sorts. " How does one fight something one cannot see?! " I argued in a lofty way, and Raynor's affection for me spoke volumes in the way he accepted my attitude and did not club me into submission.

Or unconsciousness.

" Where are your books? " Raynor asked in an abrupt manner, and I stared at him, still in a selfish snit.

" What books are you referring to, Master? " I asked with as much deference as possible.

Raynor lifted a grizzled eyebrow and looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses. Again.

" Do you not use your former schoolbooks, your notes, as reference material?! " He asked in astonishment. " This I cannot believe, you were definitely brought up better than that! "

He was right, and I felt remorse flowing over me, to mingle uncomfortably with the self-pity.

" You speak the truth, Master. I will find the box containing those items and study them carefully. "

" Good boy. " Raynor said, beaming at me. Any moment now, I expected him to hand me a cookie.

Alas, all he did was settle himself more comfortably in his chair and chat on and on and on...

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Raynor heaved himself to his feet, made a few paternal remarks, and shimmered away, leaving me to brood in the blessed silence.

Tomorrow, I told myself, I would gain entry to the Attic where the sisters kept their Book and I would dematerialize it, sending it down to my mentor's room. An offering of peace after his tolerance of my odious behavior that night.

One more scotch and I was more than ready to call it a day. I would get the Book, find and destroy the Usurper, and increase my wooing of my delightful Phoebe.

Little did I know that the Charmed Ones were beginning to feel a tad nervous...

And were implementing measures that would come very close to revealing my true identity.

The next day, I shook my head with disgust. Troxa had beaten me to the Manor, but appeared to be content to linger in the shadows.

What was he up to?

The truth dawned on me and soured my jubliant mood. The bastard was waiting to deal with me, before making an attempt on the sisters' lives.

Invisibility demons! I snorted to myself. All power and no brains.

I had done my homework as I had promised my mentor. Troxa was vulerable to cold. So vulnerable, in fact, that it rendered him visible. The icing on the proverbial cake was that he could not FEEL the temperature change, thereby making life a bit brighter for me.

I gained entrance to the Manor and immediately turned the air conditioning on, pushing the dial to it's limit. It would be freezing in here, but Troxa wouldn't even realize it. No, poor demon. He wouldn't know a thing until the sisters laid a vanquish on his visible ass.

A wave of my hand opened the Attic door, and I was already chanting the spell when, BAM!!

I felt as though I had been hit by 10,000 volts. I tried to cling to consciousness, but my struggles were futile...I felt myself slipping away, my demon form and human form flickering back and forth; and then both of us slid into oblivion.

I awoke some time later to a frantic Phoebe, confused Piper and a furious Prue. It seems as though the Halliwells had used an electrical grid trap and I had to applaud their cunning; even though I was more pissed off then I had ever been when dealing with mortals.

" That thing is a menace! Illegal! You're lucky an innocent person didn't wandering into that...that thing and DIE! "

I was magnificent in my fury, and Phoebe was distraught. I hid a grin; a bit of dissention among the ranks never hurt a demon's chances, and Phoebe was upset with Prue's little trick. The witch in question just appeared even more disdainful and suspicious towards me, and I was lucky that her attention was soon diverted by the cold air, broken mirrors and missing personal effects. I paused for a second; what kind of demon was playing these malicious little games with Prue? Ah well...

I stormed out of the house. I had played my part to the hilt, adding to Phoebe's distress. As soon as the door closed, though, I was broadsided by Troxa, and we had our requisite pissing match. He actually got the upper hand for a brief moment, but in the end, Phoebe rescued me by reopening the manor door. Demon fights are a bit like cat fights. Noisy and disturbing in the extreme.

Once I reassured her, I left Troxa with a parting remark...

" This is MY mission. You would do well to remember that. "

Troxa sneered, but a flicker of fear showed on his handsome face.

After all, Belthazor was not a demon to be trifled with...

Next: A vanquish, a stalker and a moment of love...


	11. Chapter 11

Cole To The Infinite Power

The Turning Point

By: Alchemystik

To say I brooded about the Source's decision to " allow " other demons to assist me with the Charmed Ones demise, was an understatement.

I was pissed off to the extreme; this was MY Life Assignment! Ok, the sisters were a menace and a bother and a danger to our kind, but to hint that I was incapable of dealing with them irritated me to no end.

And, Troxa? Please.

He was a lesser demon, not even worthy of my attention. So I couldn't become invisible; so the hell what!? HE didn't have a demonic half that put the fear of the Wastelands in many a demon greater than himself.

He was one-dimensional, arrogant, and dared to warn me...ME, the Mighty Belthazor, that he would " handle " this situation with aplomb. I so wanted to " free the beast " so to say, and make him re-think his agenda.

But there was a slight twist to all of this. Just who was terrorizing Prue Halliwell? It wasn't me, and it certainly wasn't Troxa. Raynor had drawn a blank in his research, as had Klea and Vornac, who offered their assistance.

Could it be that a mere human was doing this dastardly little deeds?

It was beginning to look that way after all.

Phoebe seemed anxious to make things up to me, especially since the sisters had practically vanquished me with Prue's little trap. There was a slight down side to that incident, though. Their whitelighter was able to pull himself away from Piper's bedroom long enough to inform them that the great demon Belthazor was on their shapely little asses. Those prissy little Elders were obviously good for something; what, I had no clue.

Prue, well...being Prue, learned all she could about me. It appeared that I rated an entire page in the Book Of Shadows; Including the potion and spell necessary to vanquish me.

I'm pretty sure that even at that early stage, Prue equated Cole Turner, Assistant D.A. with Belthazor, Big Bad Demon. Phoebe wasn't as cynical, at least not at that time, and Piper...well, Piper had issues of her own to deal with.

Prue's paranoia ultimately led her right to me, but that's another story, so to speak.

Right now, I had Troxa to deal with, and I racked my brain to come up with an idea that would not only expose my superiority, but also rid me of the arrogant vermin.

I finally settled on a simple human apparatus; a fire extinguisher. When Troxa had the gall to show up at my office, I fired off the extinguisher and then fired off a fireball.

No more Troxa.

The other story evolved just as I had suspected. Prue's " secret admirer " turned out to be a part-time bartender in Piper's club; an unbalanced female who wished to replace Prue in real life.

Don't these people think these things through? Did she honestly think that her deception would go unnoticed? I guess I didn't understand human nature as well as I thought I did. She was caught, and Prue was safe to pursue...me.

I would say that all's well that ends well, but then came a blow to my monstrous ego.

I never expected Castle Phoebe's ramparts would be so difficult to breach. Perhaps somewhere deep inside of her, some womanly instinct warned her that all was not as it seemed when it came to me.

I temporarily gave up my attempts to steal the Book of Shadows, as a succession of minor and not so minor demons began to challenge me for the right to kill the Charmed Ones. By the end of the day I was often exhausted, both mentally and physically, but I made an effort to see Phoebe, no matter how I felt.

Yet still...the consumation I sought alluded me. I, who had never had a problem wooing a woman, was left wondering if I had lost my touch.

I even went so far as to ask Vornac when we lunched together...

" Have you ever bedded a witch? " I asked him as we picked our way through a delectable antipasto platter at a comfortable Italian bistro.

Vornac wrinkled his nose in distaste, as he swallowed a black olive stuffed with provilone cheese. " A witch? Please, brother, not while I'm eating. "

I chuckled at his wit, then adopted a more serious tone. I confided in him because we were indeed as close as brothers; in fact, we were members of the elite group known as The Brotherhood of the Thorn, and ranked only slightly below the Triad in power and prestige.

He listened, a half smile on his lips, as I outlined my plan to possess Phoebe Halliwell. I spoke of the Charlatan back in 17th century Salem, who had, with a simple apple peel, proclaimed me as Phoebe's true love. I told him of the moonlight walks, the kisses and caresses that increased in frequency and fervor. I explained the visits to my condo, and the fact that she allowed me a steadily increasing amount of liberties with her body...

Yet always stopped me short of fulfillment. I wished to know why, and I trusted my good " brother ", no slouch with the female species himself, to enlighten me.

Vornac finished his scotch on the rocks and signaled the waiter for another round. That slight smile, now maddening in it's ambiguity still played around his lips. Finally, he spoke.

" An apple peel proclaimed you her true love? Well, have you told her such? "

I looked at him with exasperation, " Of course I've let her know how much she means to me! "

" That wasn't my question. " Vornac answered, smoothly, moving his plate to make room for the entree that was now being served.

We were silent while our waiter went through the ritual of grating cheese and pepper to our specifications. Once he had departed, Vornac pointed out the truth.

So simple, so elemental. I, with humanity coursing through my veins had to be taught by a full fledged demon! The shame of it!

" Listen, Cole. " Vornac said, quietly. " You ask for my secret, yet I am astounded that you of all people do not know what that magic word is. "

I cut my veal, all the while perplexed until Vornac rolled his eyes and put me out of my misery.

" Women want to hear one word and one word only from a man. Love. L-O-V-E. Tell her you love her, and you will breach her defenses in an instant. "

I groaned and closed my eyes. Of course! How stupid I had been. I recalled the ending of our many phone conversations when I had gently wished her a good night, and had heard the faint disappointment in her voice as she echoed the sentiment.

She was waiting to hear that simple, that inane four letter word!

I looked at the gloating Vornac and drew my brows together. " It wasn't necessary for you to SPELL the word for me. I placed higher than you in our human academic programs, if you'd recall. "

Vornac smirked and popped half a meatball in his mouth. Chewing quickly, he swallowed and then he hit back with, " Yes, very true. But it would appear that you are in danger of flunking Female 101. "

I glared at him and then we both grinned. How I missed him! We had indeed been brothers, and while I could talk to Raynor on many subjects, debauchery of human females was naturally NOT one of them.

I insisted on paying for lunch, and hurried back to my office, a plan formulating in my mind.

Unfortunately, when I arrived at the building that housed the Bay Area District Attornies, my secretary informed me that a visitor was awaiting me in my chambers.

" Can I help you? " I asked the suited gentleman studying the framed prints on my wall.

But when he turned around, my stomach lurched. The face was youthful and smooth, but the black eyes were as familiar to me as my own sea blue.

" Master? " I murmured, bowing my head in deference.

What had happened, I thought frantically. What catastrophy would have brought Raynor to this world in a disguise?

He didn't appear angry or unduly excited. Instead, he appeared as normal as was possible for a gouty, short-tempered, impatient and crabbed demon of some three hundred year of age.

" I was looking over some information about The Charmed Ones when I had an epiphany. "

" An epiphany. " I echoed, looking lost and confused.

Raynor tugged at the suit coat and snarled something pithy and thankfully inaudible to me. In an instant, he was back to his old self, garbed in his dusty black robes, his long gray hair and beard giving him a wise and sage-like countenance. His heavy knobbed staff appeared in his hand and he sighed with something akin to contentment. I, on the other hand, hoped that my secretary would not find a reason to open my door any time soon.

He limped over to the small loveseat against the wall that held the prints he had been so engrossed in and grunted as he lowered himself onto it.

" What was the most important lesson I taught you about the use of magical powers? " He barked at me.

I shook my head slightly; this day had taken on a surrealness that was robbing me of my ability to form a coherent thought, let alone a cohesive sentence.

" Well? " He grumbled, and I sat down on my desk chair, before I fell over.

" Um...well..." I faltered, hemmed and hawed. " Are we speaking about ALL powers? "

Raynor raised his eyes heavenward, as if to ask the other side to give him the strength not to crack my skull like an egg.

" Powers...powers are given. " I stuttered, and Raynor shook his head regretfully.

" What happens when you become angry? No, more than angry, enraged? Belthazor appears, does he not? "

I nodded, still unsure where my mentor was going with this.

He waited for a moment, and when I didn't pick up the ball and run with it, he decided I was either brain dead, or totally humanized, and explained himself more fully.

" ALL powers are emotionally based. Why would the witches be any different? In fact, I'm sure their bond, their proverbial " Power of Three " stems from their emotional connection as sisters. "

Of course! I said to myself, finally seeing the light. Emotionally based powers; and it was so easy to manipulate human emotions! "

Raynor watched me carefully, a slight smile on his face. He knew I was putting two and two together, and was hoping I'd come up with four.

" If I turn the sisters against each other, the bond would be broken and they would be powerless. At my mercy. " I responded, excitedly. 

Raynor nodded, well pleased. He heaved himself from the loveseat to his feet with the help of his staff.

" Sow discord, make them angry. Turn sister against sister, and then..."

His voice trailed off, and I finished his sentence; " And then, we will have them! "

He bade me a fond farewell and left me to my musings. A call to Phoebe set up a redezvous for later this evening, and my secretary kindly ordered roses and Champagne.

RED roses. The eternal symbol of love.

Tonight...tonight I would allow my human side full sway. And then, we would see.


	12. Chapter 12

Cole To The Infinite Power

A Little Night Magic

By: Alchemystik

I awoke with a start, squinting a bit in the candlelight from the scented ball of wax on the bedside table. It was then I heard a sigh and a murmur; it was then I remembered. Arranged comfortably close to me was Phoebe. Golden brown hair spilled over my chest, a delicate hand rested lightly on my bare stomach. Her gentle breathing actually made my chest hair move, and I felt a tickling sensation. I would die, though, before I rearranged her or even reached to relieve the slight itch I felt. I never wanted to move again. I wanted to stay forever, this gorgeous creature welded to my side. Wedded to my heart.

Never in my life had I ever felt like this. So complete. So at peace. So Cole, with no Belthazor lurking beneath the surface, ready to materialize.

So **THIS** was what it was like to be truly human. To give oneself fully to another human being. Unconditionally, with no strings attached, no agendas to keep. My guard was as far down as it was possible for it to go, and all was well with my world.

So this was love.

And yet...

I could not totally abandon myself to this new and incredible sensation. Outwardly nothing had changed; Phoebe was still a Charmed One, and thanks to the nosiness of Piper's future husband, the sisters were now aware of the Mighty Belthazor. They knew I killed witches, and that I was damned good at it. They knew I was stalking them. That little winged tattletale would pay dearly once The Charmed Ones were neutralized. It appeared that I had even become a suspect, as the sisters put two plus two together and were closing in on the correct answer. Me.

I glanced towards the locked antique apothecary cupboard on the far wall. Inside lay my collection of Athames, honed to a brilliant sharpness. My potions and crystals, all the tools of my craft. My altar, my own dark version of the Book of Shadows.

The flotsam and debris of who I really was. What I really was. A well-trained, well-educated Upper Level Demon. A Mercenary, an Elite member of The Brotherhood of the Thorn. Raynor's pride and joy. The Source's hope for some peace and security.

My Mother's son.

Phoebe sighed again and shifted her position, slightly. As I rearranged the sheet that covered us, I marvelled at the sheer perfection of her; how delicate she looked laying next to me. Her tanned and toned body barely made a dent against my longer, sturdier frame. I smoothed back the silky, tangled hair from her face, but lightly, gently, careful to sooth and not disturb. I could crush that narrow skull with one hand, but the thought of bringing violence into the room where we had made such glorious and passionate love was an antithesis to me. I could no more harm her than I could a puppy or kitten.

Oh, I had tried. Troxa was dealt with in a simple, offhanded manner. I would be damned to hell for all eternity before I let someone like HIM interfere in my business. The very arrogance of that creature still filled me with annoyance.

Prue was definitely the key to my plans. Piper and Phoebe took their cue from her; she was a natural leader, fearless and balanced. She was fierce about her love for her siblings and her determination to protect them was singleminded in the extreme.

She would have made a marvelous demon.

But, she was vulnerable in one of the most elemental ways. Her humanity. Stab her and she bled. Stab her enough and she died.

Stab her enough, and the Power of Three would be no more.

I had sent a demonic Empath her way, and yet, she dealt with him, too. Most humans could not withstand the weight of sorrow an Empath must endure every waking moment, but once again, Prue Halliwell had triumphed.

The Bitch. Little did I know that one day, this fragile being in my arms would wield that same power with skill and sensitivity. What a small world we magical creatures inhabit.

I was now rethinking over my last conversation with Raynor. The linking of powers and emotions was a well-known phenomenon, taught to us at a relatively early age. We, too, took advantage of that, but in a slightly different manner. For example; an angry demon could increase his killing power tenfold, while an angry witch made mistakes.

Often fatal mistakes. And, with the Halliwell sisters, the greatness of their power lay within the bonds of sisterhood. Break the bond, you remove the ability to use the power. Literally. A loss of the sisterly bond rendered them powerless.

How simple. And once they were powerless, Belthazor would pay Prue Halliwell a little visit.

And if she was very good, I'd even bring her a nice, new shiny athame...

To die with.

The clock was ticking, though. They were, even now, gathering information about me. I, too, could be cut. I too could bleed.

I, too, could be vanquished.

It was imperative that I be the one to inflict the death blow.

For my Mother.

For my Father.

For Raynor.

For the honor and duty that had been drilled into me from the time I was a small boy.

" Thou Shalt Not Suffer A Witch To Live! "

Not a bad motto, if I do say so myself.

Phoebe snuggled even closer and I wrapped both arms around my love...

...and drifted back to sleep as the candle sputtered and went out.


	13. Chapter 13

Cole To The Infinite Power

Chapter 13: Anger Management

By: Alchemystick

Many people think that anger alone substains demons; but that is far from the truth. We live for many of the same things humans live for. Acceptance, respect, succor; a chance for advancement. While anger can and did drive us to a certain extent, many of our crimes are laid at the door of just one thing. It's our nature that guides us. No more, no less.

But anger can be a willing tool. One which I now intended to use to my own advantage.

I would use a certain demon, one who was able to sow discord into the hearts of men, and women, and divide the Charmed Ones.

Divided, at odds with one another, their power sputtered. And fled.

And, if it could be managed, I had found the key to make sure those powers never troubled me again.

If the sisters used those powers in battle AGAINST each other...they were damned.

Hopefully, for all eternity.

I chuckled and rubbed my hands together. A perfect plan, flawlessly executed, would rid me of the Charmed Ones forever, yet leave me with my hard-won prize...Phoebe.

For I refused to hand her over. I had worked too long and too hard conquering that particular bastion to sacrifice it. Not even for The Source of all Evil.

Unfortunately, just as plans were being implemented, Raynor paid me a visit...

He stumped to " our chair ", gestured for a shot of scotch and looked at me from under those brows thick enough to thatch a cottage.

" The Source grows restless. " He rumbled, and I dropped humbly to my knees at his feet. This ploy, learned in my earlier years, had never failed to placate him.

" I crave our master's pardon, and your's too, Sir. But listen to the plan I have wrought! "

He listened. Silently. And, I felt the sweat roll down between my shoulder blades.

When I finished, silence reigned supreme. The grizzled head drooped, yet the bright, black eyes glittered with a certain fire.

" And this...plan...will work? " Raynor asked, a certain skepticism apparent in his voice.

I was confused, momentarily stunned. Raynor, himself had come up with this plan! He suggested it! Why was he know acting as if I had presentled him with a hastily thrown together idea?

" But..but, Master! " I stuttered, helplessly, " You, yourself suggested that anger could pull the Charmed Ones apart! "

I tensed, ready to dodge the ever present staff by his side, but he sat quietly; waiting.

" Don't you recall?! " I asked, frantic now, " Our conversation, Master? "

Finally, Raynor sighed and shifted his gaze away from me. Those eyes, so recently burning holes in me now looked up at the ceiling.

" The Whitelighter. " He said, suddenly. I twitched, slightly, not understanding.

" Master? " I said, warily, but he shook his head.

" Nothing of import, Turner. Now, this plan of yours..."

We discussed strategy, tactics, but something...something was askew. The beetle black eyes kept returning to me, with a questioning look. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer.

" What troubles you, Master? " I asked with deference, tinged with dread.

He looked at me a moment longer and then sighed.

" I worry about you. Nothing you do is systematic! There is no order to your thoughts or actions! Yes, you have results, but your methods follow no discernable path! Chaos, in thought and deed! Is this how the human half of you survives?! "

I thought quickly, bowing lower, abasing myself with a distaste bordering on dislike. Why should I, the Mighty Belthazor, be forced to endure such indignities?

Anger...and the ability to master, to manage it. To use it at your will or whim. What power! I mastered mine, I had no choice.

One day...

" You speak truth, Master. Perhaps my mind does work differently than usual because of my human parts, but as long as the goal is acheived, does it matter? "

I cringed, awaiting the inevitable lashing by both tongue and staff...but just that flat, black stare.

When he looked at me, what did he see? A flawed end product of a genetic experiment go awry?

The son he never had, perhaps? I remember the years, when the Great Raynor alternated between abuse and praise. When this " Father " was the only being I wished to please and impress. I had lived for his meager accolades, lived in fear of his tirades. It all seemed so far away; lost in a distant dream.

I had spent my life trying to please this man, win his approval, avoid that murderous flying staff. Appeasement, atonement...the list when on and on. And for what?

Ah, that was indeed the question! For power? Advancement? Love?

Why did I endure his abuse, his intereference; WHY?

And then, crystal clear, a moment of clarity burst upon me. Because...I had no other choice. I was trained, indoctrinated, brainwashed, if you will, into accepting his behavior as a normal way of demonic life.

It was then, in that moment when the fog lifts and we see dazzling sun for the first time, that true hatred was born.

I concealed it well, allowed him to brow-beat me somemore, but once he had shimmered away...

I placed my hand through a window, welcoming the pain, not even seeing the blood drip, scarlet red and dangerous on my carpeting.

If the Triad interfered. If The Brotherhood insinuated themselves.

I would kill them.

Anger and passion warred within me and I realized that human love can and indeed would conquer all.

Divide the Charmed Ones I would. Kill Phoebe? Never. For I had learned a valuable lesson, one which is true in either the Upper or Lower worlds.

Anger is but a fleeting emotion.

But love? Can last forever.


	14. Chapter 14

Cole To The Infinite Power

I Never Sang For My Father...

By: Alchemystik

" We are the Magicians, and we are the dreamer of dreams..." Phoebe whispered in the dark night. How right she was, I thought. She had no idea just how right she was, but soon...soon, I intended to enlighten her.

Not exactly a concept Raynor would understand, though...

" Magic? " I murmured, drawing her close, " Why do you refer to magic? "

She colored a bit in the light of the many candles burning around the bed, and stammered, " I...magic is in the air when we are together. Isn't it? "

I nodded absent-mindedly, stroking her golden brown hair. How right she was, I thought, but declined to answer.

If only she knew what a key part magic...MY magic would shortly play in her life; she would certainly no longer be curled up comfortably in my bed, that is for certain.

I had seen Raynor for what, unbeknowst to me, was our final meeting earlier this evening.

He had shaken off his moroseness and appeared energized, almost young, despite the ancient, grizzled appearance.

" My boy, I have just the demon in mind for your plan! " He crowed with an excess of enthusiasm. Was he, even then, contemplating my death? Removing me from the assignment would not suffice. Demons were never removed from a Life Assignment, not without much thought and desperation. Sacrificed, annihilated, vaporized, yes. Removed? Not hardly. Were they desperate? Why?

It was only later that I learned that Piper was due to receive a power advancement, one that would spell doom for so many of my kind. The breaking of the bond was now becoming crucial. My involvement with Phoebe was hindering my Master in more ways than one, and I still shake with anger to know how I was set up.

To die.

The Charmed Ones knew all about Belthazor; but recently, Prue put two and two together and began to suspect Cole Turner as having some kind of supernatural connection to the goings on in San Francisco. What a wily little minx. It would give me the greatest pleasure to personally escort her into the Great Void.

This was going to be so easy.

When the smoke cleared and the screaming stopped, I was wounded, on the run, a pariah in both worlds. I had been betrayed by all except the one person who had the most right to despise me.

Phoebe.

Oh, she was royally pissed off when she found out that Prue's paranoia was in fact, a reality. Assistant D.A. Cole Turner and the mighty Belthazor were one in the same, the assassin sent by the Triad to destroy The Charmed Ones. She knew it all, but yet...in the end, love prevailed and she bought me a measure of time and peace.

I can never return to my former life, for the love that I bore for this fragile creature had wounded me in a far greater way than the knife her sister had wielded against me. I was human, now; too human to ever return to a life of raw violence.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

The Demon of Anger was contacted, the bargain struck. But, little did I know that the Elders had informed that cursed whitelighter about Belthazor's mission, and he had hyped the sisters up, making them wary. Making them more prepared than I could ever imagine.

Oh, the anger broke the bond, but for so brief a time, that it was worthless in the extreme. All I ended up with was a gaping wound where a piece of my flesh was removed to complete the potion to vanquish me.

Phoebe had run to me for comfort and I know that I should have had the strength to remove her then and there. The Athame was ready, but the touch of that tender skin I so lusted to stroke, those pouting lips I could not resist, and I was helpless in her arms.

Me, the Mighty Belthazor, reduced to jelly by a mere human! A human WITCH at that! Ah, perhaps Raynor was right all along. My weakness, my humanity would indeed be my downfall.

But, Raynor...

Raynor, Vornac...my father and my brother were gone.

The failure of my grand plan was further exacerbated by the Triad jerking me down below to punish me personally. They made one small miscalculation, though. They gave me a moment to regroup, and in that timeless minute, I summoned all the rage, courage and training that had been beaten into me, and struck the fatal blow.

Raynor...

Father...

I couldn't sing for him. I couldn't live up to his expectations.

Could I mourn the man who had raised me? Been the only father I could clearly recall? Taught me?

Betrayed me?

I couldn't sing, and there was no time to cry...

I lay in the crypt by my parents' tombs, only vaguely aware of the abuse Phoebe was heaping on my vulnerable head. I couldn't shimmer, couldn't maintain either form for very long. I was grief-striken, betrayed, abused...and a failure. That, of all the myriad emotions coursing through my mind, was the bitterest of all.

I had failed. I was now hunted, an outcast.

Upper level no more.

I silenced Phoebe with the three words I had learned meant the most to human women; words I truly meant, even though I still denied it internally.

" I love you. " I whispered, and her eyes softened, her heart melted.

" Give me your shirt. " She commanded, and when I did so she poured the vanquishing potion on it, producing the required smoke and noise. Her sisters were in hot pursuit, I had to flee, but I promised her...I promised I would return.

I loved her. She was my oxygen, and I would cease to breathe when we were apart.

I kissed her and departed. For a safe house, a place of refuge; one that even the Source would never think of. No one would find me there.

I went home. To my father's home, now falling into decay, boarded up and unsafe in places.

But the home that Benjamin and Elizabeth had loved and lived in. Where I had entered this wretched world...

I killed one father; yet went home, seeking another.

From the padlocked main gate to the courtyard, overgrown with weeds and sporting a broken fountain was at least one quarter of a mile. The trees had formed a bower over the gravel drive, the once manicured lawns were a weed choked jungle, but it still felt like home.

The moon broke through the clouds just as the large clapboard house came into view. The once pristine white paint had faded and peeled off, leaving grey boards. Windows were broken, and the door, although padlocked hung askew.

This had been my father and mother's summer estate. They had had a smart townhouse with a spectacular view of the Bay for daily use, but my father escaped to this refuge whenever possible. I thought I had been too young to have anything but the most fleeting of memories of this place, but flashes of events long past began to flicker in my brain.

I had spent a birthday here. My third, I'm fairly certain. I had received a pony, and was frightened to death of the small, docile animal. Mother forced me into the small saddle, but my Father had quickly plucked me off the pony as my whimpers turned to screams. I remember the look on Mother's lovely face and to my young amazement I remember her eyes glowing red for a brief second. Father hadn't seen it, he had been too busy trying to soothe me, but I saw...

I saw.

I had to shimmer my way into the house, and that took what little strength I had left. I didn't really register the decay of this once lovely home, and staggered down the long hall to the study.

My father's study. Here, more than any other place, I would feel his spirit. I was sure of it.

The old desk still stood in the big bay window, and the Victorian love seat, although worst for wear and smelling of damp and mice still stood against the opposite wall. I checked the bandage Phoebe had wrapped around the wound on my side and was gratified to find it still clean and dry. If she hadn't demanded that the whitelighter, Leo Wyatt, heal me, I would have been dead by now. He had healed enough of my human side to allow me to heal on my own, although I knew it would be a slow process.

I lowered myself onto the loveseat, and pulled my coat tightly around myself. The house was like an icebox, but I didn't dare light a fire tonight.

Tomorrow, I would begin my convalescence. Now, I needed to rest.

I couldn't sing for Raynor...

But, now...

I was able to cry...


	15. Chapter 15

Cole To The Infinite Power

In My Father's House

By: Alchemystik

I spent the week in hiding, literally melting into the woodwork when a few Bounty Hunters appeared, obviously on my trail. The Source, my former master, while perhaps believing I had been vanquished, was taking no chances.

Former Master? Where had that come from? I sat in silence, pondering my newfound change of allegiance. It was if Raynor's death had freed me to pursue the other half of myself; The human half. I had committed the unthinkable crime, was a marked demon, yet I felt no fear. Just a feeling of somber reflection mixed with a faint tinge of excitement. I was free. Free to become a full-time human being. Free to choose my own destiny and my own mate.

It scared the shit out of me...

I had captured a low-level scavenger demon by the name of Gorn, promised him a few power advances and basically used the poor fellow as a slave. Gorn fetched and carried as I slowly healed and within a week I had restored my father's study to it's former glory. Red velvet settees, gold flecked crimson damask wallcoverings, burnished oak bookcases, crystal oil-filled lamps.

And one day, bored and restless, my forays around the house gifted me with something of invaluable worth; the key to my father's safe.

A treasure trove lay wthin; I pushed the gold and jewels aside, they didn't strike my interest. What did was the large, leather bound book that had been the repository of Benjamin's innermost thoughts.

His journal.

Those of you not born in the days of grandeur and privilege would not realize the worth of these crumpling pages. A young man of culture and breeding always committed his thoughts to paper, even if they were trivial details of his day. Who he met when he ventured out, what he did, experienced, etc. The ladies of his acquaintance were discussed and judged; the criteria being Pedigree, Wealth & Beauty. Few ever deviated from that age-old dictate. A plain woman with a sour countenance and a squint would hardly be considered a great catch in our world, today. Yet, if she were related to royalty and rich as the proverbial Rothchilds, her worth was immense in the marriage market. A poor woman of modest heritage could be the most dazzling of beauties, yet lanquish on the marriage block until some bold lad with his own wealth and status threw caution to the wind.

One could always close one's eyes in bed and one's ears at the breakfast table, after all. But, status was not acquired without money, and that was the most important factor of all.

My father was born into wealth, and as I carefully turned the old yellowed pages far into the night, I sensed a kindred spirit. Society be damned, Benjamin C. Turner charted his own course!

Until he met a raven-haired temptress with eyes that flashed fire...for real.

Mother was supposed to kill him, he was suppose to ignore her, yet their disregard for propriety was the reason I was suffering through Gorn's abominible cooking and clumsy nursing. The reason I existed at all...

Their love lit flames that could yet engulf an entire world.

Phoebe occupied my thoughts. What had happened to her? Were her sisters furious at her deception? Had she even told them? Would the Source revenge himself on The Charmed Ones in lieu of me?

I finally sent Gorn out to sniff around and he returned with the news.

The Halliwell Witches continued to fight all demonic comers, and since all three were still accounted for, they were obviously successful.

Phoebe, he recounted with apparent distaste, had taken to disappearing into the old crypt that held my parents' remains. The scene of our last meeting. Was she looking for me? Hoping I'd reappear as I had promised?

One can never trust a low-level demon, so I verbally scoffed at that promise to Gorn. Of course I would never return to a witch! I had used her for my own means, it was over, done. Finished.

Gorn went away satisfied that I may be a traitor, but at least I wasn't completely insane. Perhaps I really would reward him instead of vanquishing him when his help was no longer necessary.

But at night, in my innermost thoughts I knew. I knew I'd return to claim the woman I had killed to possess.

The mere human that caused me to destroy the only father I could recall.

The enchantress who's heart called to mine even now.

I was only two or three years old when Father...died, yet here in his house, the home I was born in, memories were returning. Here, in my Father's house, I remembered...

I remembered being held by a tall man; I smelled the fine cologne and the rum of a gentleman. I remember the giggles when the whiskered cheek playfully scraped my tender skin, the watch that hung from the chain of his waistcoat, heavy with seals. My childish hands could roam over anything and all he did was smile indulgently.

I remember the heat between him and Mother. The dark and sensual yearnings that caused them to deposit me into the stiffly starched arms of the nanny, and disappear for hours behind the locked doors of their Master suite.

Unable to sleep, I had climbed the wide stairs, now partially restored due to Gorn's diligence. He loved the old mansion, and willingly worked to help me return it to it's former glory. He spent hours cleaning, polishing, hammering and nailing. In his former life, he had confided to me, he had been one of those men known as a " Navvie. " A jack-of-all-trades, traveling the roads with all his worldly possessions, welcomed into grand homes like this one. Sleeping in the stables, eating with the staff in the kitchen, many ended up staying on as general handymen.

Unfortunately, Gorn's life took a bit of a sinister turn, so he revelled in this chance to exercise skills not used for over a century. I was deeply grateful that he felt such a reverence for my ancestral home. I would reward him after all.

I didn't dare shimmer, both for health AND stealth reasons. I was pretty sure that I was public enemy #1 on the Source's hit list, so any show of powers would bring more of those detested bounty hunters into my private realm. That was not to be tolerated.

As for my heath; I was healing, but health is also a state of mind, and my mind was being yanked in so many different directions, that eating and sleeping weren't important factors in my life at this time. I knew better, but I just couldn't dedicate myself to taking better care. Perhaps I should look into capturing a health guru-type. Or teach Gorn to cook.

I paused outside the cobwebbed doors that opened into my parents' suite of rooms. I recalled a sitting room, where Mother would read, play her piano or write letters. A large dressing room held her gowns, hats and father's suits. I vaguely recalled a hip bath in the corner and a large pitcher and basin. So antiquated compared with today's modern conveniences.

They slept in another room under a canopy of gold satin and green silk. The bed was a monstrosity, the carved headboard nearly touching the high ceiling, the pillows thick and numerous. Mother filled all the rooms with flowers all year long. In the winter months, father had a greenhouse with a gardener supply her with her beloved blooms.

The door was locked, of course, but I had found the master key in the study. After removing the worst of the cobwebs, I inserted the old-fashioned key into the lock and listened to it groan and grate. How many years had it been since these doors were opened? Since light and the scent of flowers filled the air?

Too many.

I knew the house was in a state of decay, but somehow the child in me so wanted these most sacred rooms to be pristine, filled with their personal belongings and the perfume of their presence.

It was worse than I feared. All furniture was gone, satin wallpaper hung in rotted strips from decaying walls. Windows were broken, the carpet was piled with dust and debris. Yet something glinted in the faint light of my lamp, and I bent down to pick through the remains of days gone by.

A brooch. Small, almost insignificant, a woman's gold brooch shaped into a tiny flower basket. Each flower was a different gem, so emeralds, pearls, rubies and sapphires glimmered back at me under their coat of dust and grime.

At the top of the miniature basket, a diamond formed the bow at the handle. A lovely diamond, that glowed with an icy blue hue even through the years of dirt. A diamond that could grace a modern woman's finger if re-polished and set into a ring. Once again, Phoebe's honey colored face and hair drifted through my mind...

What looked like scratches marred the back, but it wasn't until I squinted and brought my lamp closer that I saw that those scratches were words.

A dedication.

" To My Beloved Wife, Elizabeth, On The Most Joyous Occasion Of Our Son's Birth "

A gift of love and devotion. To celebrate my arrival on this wretched planet. A gift she had scorned and left lay here, as if it counted for naught. Why? What had happened to take those days of sensual beauty and light and plunge them into a world of darkness and death?

I HAD to know!

All I did though was clasped the brooch so tightly in my hand that the jeweled " flowers " bit into my palm. Then I bowed my head and cried.

They say we can never go home again; yet what riches we miss if we don't at least try.


	16. Chapter 16

Cole To The Infinite Power

A Love For All Time

By: Alchemystik

-----

I was well enough to move on, but I felt bound to this house. My parents spent the majority of their time together here, as father was a country man at heart, and mother really did wish to please him.

At least, in the beginning she did.

I wanted to know about my roots. What brought these two diverse humans together? And what finnally destroyed the last vestige of their love?

I had to know. I had to know so I could avoid making the same mistake Elizabeth did...

-----

I tore the house apart, looking for the second journal. In the first one, the one father used more as a calender of events, he alluded to the fact that he was a compulsive writer of lists, thoughts, desire and ideas. Therefore, with a bit of brain-power, I deduced that another journal was somewhere within this house.

THAT journal was the proverbial gold mine of information that I was seeking. But, it was playing hard-to-get. I had thoroughly scoured the Attic and the Study. Gorn had checked every nook and cranny in the kitchen and dining room. Together, we had checked the old greenhouse, the wellhouse, the arbor father had built for mother to enjoy in the summer months.

Living rooms, parlor, bedrooms yielded nothing more than dust and mice droppings; that left only one other area left to check.

The Master Suite.

I hadn't been back up there since I found the brooch, and I'll admit I was a bit nervous about what else I might find in those most sacred of rooms.

I had no choice, I had to search them. Giving Gorn some trivial errands, I braced myself for the mission...

Don't desert me now, Benjamin.

-----

If anything, the suite of rooms was even more dismal and depressing. I sighed once and hardened my resolve; the secret was here, and I would find it. After all, I had been an upper level demon, one of the elite. If the journal indeed existed, I would find it.

Hours later, coated with sweat and covered with cobwebs, I was prepared to admit defeat. I had tapped on walls, removed ever loose floor board and brick on the two fireplaces, even removed the remnants of mother's rotted gowns and negligees.

I slumped down onto the floor of the dressing room, exhausted and disheartened. It was then that I saw it...

A hat box sat on the top-most shelf, pushed as far back as it could go. It would've been invisible except from this position, and I knew with a certainty borne of experience, that what I sough layed within.

A slight wiggle of my finger and the box landed in my lap. I blew the dust off the fancy fabric covered box, and opened the lid.

There it was. A book approximately the size of a hardcover novel, covered in dark red leather with gold piping and letters. On the cover, worked in a fancy calligraphy script...

B.C.T.

Benjamin Coleridge Turner.

Not many realized that my full and legal name was merely a reversal of my father's. According to a certain paper Raynor had taken from the rooms mother and I occupied when he had " liberated " me; which turned out to be my baptisimal certificate, I had been christened Coleridge Benjamin Turner.

Coleridge.

Cole...

The fact that I had been christened into The Church of England both fascinated and repelled my mentor. He wondered how it was that the church did not react to a demon being given a sacred right within it's hallowed walls.

I'm guessing he was expecting something along the lines of an explosion, and was a bit disappointed to find out that my baptism was as mundane as most.

Yes, I'm stalling.

I opened the journal to a random page, and found that my father had recorded an hourly synopsis of my birth.

" 2 p.m. The midwife states the Elizabeth is bearing her pains well, and the time for the birth is nearer than before. I asked if she ( Elizabeth ) would mind my presence at the birth and the midwife left to inquire, a look of distaste on her face. Men of my station do not trouble themselves with the birth of their offspring, but somehow, I felt this child was going to be different..."

How right he was.

Gorn knocked on the door, announcing dinner. I could finally look forward to eating, as I bestowed upon him a spell that allowed him to learn any domestic skill with speed and accuracy. He had remodled the basement kitchen, and took much pride in his abilities.

I tucked the precious tome back into it's box and left the master suite.

I saw no reason to ever enter those depressing rooms again. Unless I refurbished them for Phoebe and myself, that is.

-----

The basement kitchen was freshly green-washed, with new and spotless flagstones on the floor. A modern stove and refrigerator still perplexed Gorn at times, but he adored the sharp knives, the food processor and the coffeepot with the thermal carafe. To say that the dishwasher and garbage disposal made him swoon would be a gross understatement.

A new wooden table and chairs were his pride & joy, and he had taken to wearing a butler's apron during the day, spending much time lovingly polishing the wood he had meticulously restored.

" Excellent, Gorn! " I praised him at the end of the substantial meal. " You will always have a place in my home! "

" Thank you, Master. " He answered with quiet pride. " I did find time to check on the Halliwell sisters as you have commanded. "

" And? " I asked with seeming disinterest, all the while burning to hear about my beloved.

" The witches continue on with their petty human lives. They fight all demons who come their way, and are undefeated so far. The middle witch and the cursed whitelighter have received permission to marry, so the sisters are busy planning for that event. I wonder if they will have it catered? What do human brides serve at such events, Master? I've seen pictures and models of the spectacular cakes that are baked and decorated, one can't help but wonder..."

I waved my hand and Gorn fell silent immediately. He was too well trained and too wary of my returning powers to annoy me any further.

So. The sisters fought on. Just think of the help I could be to them; I KNEW all demons, how they fought. what their weak points were. I could win over the Charmed Ones, fight on the side of good, be the man my father hoped I would be.

But, Elizabeth...

What kind of son did she hope for? Strong? Proud?

Evil?

I was lost in my musings, not aware of Gorn standing patiently by the sink where he had finished the dishes and so neatly made everything ready for the next day..

" Master? "

I was startled out of my thoughts and answered more brusquely than I should have. " What is it? "

" When I returned today, I walked the grounds as you had ordered, when I saw three demons standing in the trees at the edge of the estate. "

I was instantly alert, and I sat up straight, " More Bounty Hunters? " I asked with distaste, but Gorn shook his head.

" No, Master, these demons exuded more...more...power. They knew I saw them, yet showed no fear. I immediately shimmered out, in hopes that they would think I had just happened upon this place randomly. "

" I see. " I answered, my blood running cold. Powerful demons; upper-level, perhaps. Were rumors of my escape circulating?

" You did well. " I complimented Gorn. " Where did you shimmer to and what happened then? " I queried him.

" I ended up in the greenhouse, where the denseness of greenery hid me well. They conferred for a few moments and then shimmered away themselves. "

" As I said, you did well. We will be more alert to the presence of others and take appropriate action as necessary. "

I stood up, patting my stomach that was no longer concave, " An excellent meal, I thank you and bid you good night. "

Gorn bowed his head in deference, please with my kind words, " Thank you, Master. I wish you a pleasant night. "

Gorn would retire to the small room that once housed the cook when the house was fully staffed. He had restored that room as carefully as he had the others, but I was startled to see that aside from a comfortable bed, small dresser and nightstand, the majority of the room was taken up with books. Obviously, my low-level demon had a bright mind and spent his leisure time cultivating it.

The old music room that opened out from my father's restored study had been made ready for me. Gorn had hammered and nailed, cleaned and furnished, and I now had a well-feathered and comfortable nest to retire to at night.

It was there that I took the journal, seating myself in the easy chair by the fire Gorn had kindled for me earlier. A crystal cognac decanter and glass awaited me on a silver salver, and I paused to pour myself a small measure before I opened the book to the place I had marked...

" 4:35pm: Elizabeth has given her permission for me to attend her during the birth of our child. The midwife staes she will come for me soon, as the time is almost upon us.

Yet, not a sound has been heard from her birthing room except for the murmur of voices in routine discussions. How like my strong and beautiful lady to bear the pain with a stoic will! "

" 7:10pm: I take a short break as the midwife, against Elizabeth's wishes, administers a light sedative and a stronger painkiller. The birth is long and hard, and it wasn't until the midwife explained to my wife and myself that the long delivery was hard on the unborn infant, that Elizabeth agreed to take something to help her pains, and hopefully, facilitate the birth.

She still looks so beautiful, even though her alabaster cheeks are flushed with rose,and her hair matted with sweat. Her dark eyes glow with an almost unearthly light, yet nothing...nothing detracts from the magnificance of this marvelous woman. Ah, the midwife calls! "

" 10:48pm: A son! A son was born mere moments ago, but I feel I must record my thoughts immediately, lest they be lost. The hard and painful birth is forgotten as the precious boy lays at his mother's fine bosom, sucking vigorously. A fine specimen he is, too, sturdy, with my dark hair and eyes the color of the sea; blue, green and gray mingle in their depths, and I hope they do not change, for they are unique and beautiful to behold.

My beloved Elizabeth came through her travails with grace and fortitude, but now exhaustion has set in. Well, it has been a long day, more than sixteen hours since the first pain was felt. She surrenders the boy to me with a smile of love and pride. Her dark eyes continue to glow, and at the moment of birth I thought they had even taken on a red hue...how silly of me. Of course it was naught but a trick of the lamp.

I cradle young Coleridge, for Elizabeth wishes our names to be the same, just jumbled a bit. He will be a great man, I can feel it within him even now. A great man, and I will be proud to call him my son. "

I carefully marked my place, closed the journal and stared into the dying fire. Why more could I add?

-----


	17. Chapter 17

Cole To The Infinite Power

The Beginning And The End

By: Alchemystik

-----

The journal drew me just like the proverbial moth to the flame. My father related all aspects of my his and mother's life, but I noted that after my birth, the entries became a bit puzzling.

The birth of a son and heir to my father was a time of rejoicing; servants were treated to food and drink, acquaintances were offered the best entertainment available.

But, there was little mention made of my mother.

One small entry approximately a week after my birth showed my father's displeasure towards my mother about her refusal to hire a wet-nurse. All ladies of leisure had wet-nurses, and it would have reflected badly on my father if his son did not have one, too.

I couldn't help but be a bit touched that mother wanted to care for me personally, but then a traitorous thought crept into my mind.

Was she afraid of what I would reveal to an unsuspecting human? Did I have powers then? Use them freely without the constraints of humanity?

Another entry hinted at more discord. Mother had recovered with " ease and speed ", much to father's disapproval. Ladies stayed in bed for at least one month after a birth; Mother was up and about in less than two weeks. That, coupled with her continued resistance to any help in the nursery, had my father on edge and critical of her.

Was that all it was, then? Could a series of small domestic upsets had whittled away at their love and passion? Was mother's absorption in me and my well-being becoming a problem?

Was my father jealous of the time mother spent on my care?

A faint thud from outside made me lift my head. I listened carefully for a moment and then shrugged. Nothing.

I flipped through a few more pages when two words seemed to leap off the page.

" Possessed! " " Unnatural Acts! "

I read the entry, oblivious to the danger that was growing by the second outside the house...

It apppeared that my father had entered my nursery and heard me crying after mother had nicked my heel with an athame. This was the blooding ceremony, performed on all infant demons; but what was commonplace to mother was " unnatural " to my father.

Slowly, their great love eroded under the weight of suspicion and doubt.

Mother had a upper level demon child, and was determined to bring me up in the manner she herself was accustomed to.

Father had no clue, and each incidence added to his confusion and heartbreak. I felt my own heart wrench to see the dissipation of what was once a beautiful thing to behold.

The second incidence was of much greater significance. Mother had me dedicated to the Source, but why she chose to hold the ceremony in my nursery instead of below ground is beyond me.

Imagine my gather's horror when he entered the nursery to visit his heir and found six black-robed man along with his black-robed wife grouped around my cradle. Candles blazed, an altar was set up, all the trapping of demondom were apparent.

According to his journal, mother looked at him with red eyes filled with loathing and ordered him out of the room. He went, but things were never the same for them again.

The co-habited, enjoyed my precocious first steps and words, showed a united face to the world; but the smoldering heat that had drawn them together was gone. Father began to wonder if all of mother's passion was just play acting. That all she wished to do was conceive a child. I can honestly say that mother truly loved my father for himself and if it wasn't the fact that my birth acted as a catalyst for her demon half, they would have continued on as they had been. Happy. In love.

After the incidence in the nursery, father's journal appeared to be devoid of references to my mother. My milestones were recorded with pride, but a somber note fell over the once bouyant tome.

A crash outside brought me to my feet, and brought Gorn into the room.

" Shall I investigate, Master? " He asked, a worried look on his weathered face. I nodded and waved him aside, still engrossed in the book that related my history.

I thumbed through references to summer sojourns, winter games, business affairs...

Until I reached the last few pages and read about my father's determination to confront my mother. I was four years of age; baby curls shorn, breeched into the clothing of a man. I rode well by that time and had begun work with a tutor. Mother was finally mentioned again, much to my delight and dread...

According to father, she was a shadow of herself. She had lost weight, her beauty, honed into a delicacy. Her hair still retained the luster of sa blackbird's wing, but her eyes were dull with apprehension.

Aged four was the time when young upper level demons were separated from their mothers. Was she awaiting that auspicious day? Dreading it, knowing it had to come?

Before I could read further, a stricken Gorn returned to the study.

" We are surrounded, Master! Demons of the Elite sort, Bounty Hunters abound! What shall we do?! "

Before I could even assimilate the information, a well-placed fireball removed Gorn, and I found myself surrounded by The Elite Corps, none that I recognized. I stood straight and tall, as befitted a son of Elizabeth Turner, but when they parted ranks to allow a figure to pass between them, I couldn't help but stare.

A petite, dark-skinned woman in a red robe with upswept braids faced me. But it was not the look of her face or form that riveted me, it was her eyes...

I knew those eyes. They had burned with anger, pride and disdain. I had seen those eyes my entire life.

They were Raynor's eyes.

The woman spoke in a throaty, seductive tone, used by most upper class female demons.

" You are caught well and true, Belthazor, but I offer you a way out. Return to your witch, work well and learn much, and then..."

The etes burned a hole into me as I smelled smoke and heard the crackle of flames around me. The manor was being looted and burned, but I was mesmerized by those eyes.

"...and then, when the time is right, we will do great things together. "

Her last words were spoken softly over her shoulder.

" For your safety, go. Now. I will be in touch. "

The " posse " melted away, and the arcid fumes of burning fabric, wood and paper filled my nostrils. Already, the prized journal was being reduced to ash and all I could see was one of the last words my father recorded;

" My Elizabeth..."

And...

" Sometimes love is not enough..."

Words I would remember at a much later date...

-----


End file.
